


Love's Requiem

by Kashoku



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Break Up, Divorce, Domestic Disputes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kashoku/pseuds/Kashoku
Summary: If you had asked Yuuri in Barcelona if there was anything that could ever bring him down from the high of being with Viktor Nikiforov, he would have laughed. But when the living legend suffers a career ending injury, it brings new struggles to their relationship. Viktor begins to drown his sorrows, and Yuuri finds himself being pulled beneath the surface in a way he’s not sure he can survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So first off, let me start by saying I will be completely transparent with everything up front in this fic in the tags. I will not be waiting to add things as a way to make it a 'surprise' because this fic deals with a lot of really hard things. Omerta dealt with a lot of dark and fucked up shit but in many ways it was still very much fantasy. The themes we deal with in LR are VERY real and are going to hit home with a lot of people - just as they hit home with me and inspired me to write this. I got the idea for this story when I was sitting in my court mandated alcohol and drug classes and I heard stories from people about how alcoholism effected everyone around the abuser. It's not pretty. It's not fluffy. It's going to hurt. There will be a happy ending. It may not be YOUR happy ending, but it will be the happy ending I know fits this story.
> 
> I big huge shout-out to my amazing beta Kage. I really wanted to call her my co-author, but she refused to allow me to do so. Her time spent in St. Petersburg is going to be so instrumental in writing this story and I know there's no way I could do this without her.
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri woke slowly, his mind becoming aware before his body. His toes flexed in a nice stretch and his cheek nuzzled against the soft sheets of the pillow. Viktor’s back was pressed to his, bathing him in warmth. It was hard to believe they were going to start training today. Yuuri felt far too rested this early in the morning and the alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. Maybe he was just finally getting used to the routine after all these years.

 

His eyes flew open.

 

Springing up off the bed he reached out a fumbling hand for his glasses and then brought his phone to his face: 9:36. “Vitya!” Yuuri screamed, throwing the sheets off his legs and scrambling off the mattress. “Did you turn off the alarm?! We were supposed to be at the rink over an hour ago!”

 

“Hmm w-what?” Viktor moaned, blue eyes slowly opening as he turned over in bed before sitting up, a hand to his head. “Oh...Yuuri, I’m so sorry. I think I turned it off in the middle of the night.”

 

With one foot in his track pants Yuuri froze with a heavy frown. “Is it hurting again?” He didn’t need to ask the question to know the answer. There were clear bags beneath Viktor’s eyes from where he hadn’t been sleeping. The pain medication didn’t seem to really be helping anymore.

 

“It’s fine, just had trouble sleeping is all,” Viktor responded, slowly pulling off the covers to reveal the black brace on his right knee. 

 

It had been a month since the surgery, but it still stung every morning to see Viktor like this. It was still early, of course, but there were concerns already that Viktor wasn’t healing properly. Yuuri blamed himself. He would  _ always _ blame himself for it. There wasn’t a day that went by that Yuuri didn’t think about it, and the worry had caused him to barely medal at World’s this year. He would have traded the podium for a healthy Viktor in a heartbeat.

 

“We can just start tomorrow,” Yuuri offered, shoving his other foot into the pants and securing them up on his waist.

 

“Yuuri, no.” Viktor winced as he swung his legs over the mattress. “We’re already a week behind as it is because of me.”

 

“Viktor, you’re still on crutches. You should be taking it easy,” Yuuri argued, opening a drawer to pull out a shirt. “I can go to the rink and practice on my own. It’s not like we’ve even decided on programs yet. This is just for me to get back into shape.” Yuuri didn’t have to get back in shape, though, this year. It was the first year he hadn’t gained weight in the off season. He’d been too sick with worry and taking care of Viktor post-op to let himself go.

 

Viktor was silent for a moment, still sitting on the edge of the bed. His right hand was gripping the sheets tightly as he stared down at the floor. “Are you sure?”

 

Yuuri swallowed hard, forcing a smile with a nod. Viktor hadn’t fought back - hadn’t argued. It felt like he was already giving up. “Yeah. I’ll have Yurio take some video or something so you can give some feedback when I get home. Ok?” 

 

“Ok…” Viktor answered quietly, slipping his legs back beneath the covers with a wince. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

 

“Hey, no,” Yuuri bent down and kissed his husband on the cheek, cradling his face in his hands. “I love you, Vitya. We’re going to make it through this.”

 

Viktor closed his eyes, sighing as he allowed his head to fall into Yuuri’s hands. “I love you, too, Yuuri. So much.”

 

Leaving him with another kiss - on the lips this time - Yuuri slipped on his shoes and put on a light jacket before securing his bag on his back and heading out the door alone. He still wasn’t used to life without Makkachin. Thinking about the poodle made his heart ache even more than it already did and when he finally took a seat on the bus, he felt a tear slip from his eye.

 

The poodle’s passing and what followed had held shades of Yuuri’s dark debut in Sochi. Makkachin was getting older with every day, and a week before the European Championship, he had let Viktor and Yuuri know it was time to go. They had at least been able to say goodbye, a closure that Yuuri never got with Vicchan. Not that it had made it any better. Viktor had been overcome with grief. It was something Yuuri recognized all too well. He should have never let Viktor go out onto the ice - should have never allowed him to skate. But he had. He would live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

 

It wasn’t even like it was sudden. Viktor, like the poodle, had been going downhill the entire year. The first year back had been the most amazing time of Yuuri’s life. It had been hard for Viktor to coach and compete at the same time, but they managed. They were happy, and Yuuri finally got to skate on the same ice  _ for real _ this time. He’d even won, and they finally married. But Viktor secretly wasn’t content. He hadn’t claimed his world records back, and he wanted them. So, he decided to go for one last season. Yuuri had agreed, reluctantly. He had seen the fatigue that had gotten to Viktor by the time World’s finally came around. The next season, Viktor  _ barely _ managed to qualify for the GPF at all and just slipped by JJ to stand on the lowest tier of the podium. 

 

A few weeks later disaster caught up to them. Yuuri would never forget the horror and fear that had run through him watching Viktor unmoving on the ice in Slovakia at Euros. He’d jumped the barrier of the ice and had run to his husband’s side. It was impossible to not notice the odd angle of his right leg. A torn ACL, MCL, meniscus tear, and signs of degenerative osteoarthritis. There was no coming back from it. Instead of going out in a blaze of glory, Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki had fizzled out like a candle that had reached the end of its wick. 

 

Yakov had taken up as Yuuri’s coach through 4CC and World’s. Yuuri wished he had withdrawn all together, despite Yakov’s insistence that it wasn’t what Viktor would have wanted. Yuuri had skipped all interviews, ducking out the back doors so that the press couldn’t find him. He’d cried for hours, burying the bronze medal in his bags and not even making an appearance at the banquet. He’d dropped out of the World Trophy team, too. Without Yuuri there to carry them, Team Japan didn’t podium. 

 

They’d waited to perform the surgery until the off season so that Yuuri could help take care of Viktor. For almost two full weeks Viktor could barely even move his leg. Yuuri had never felt so completely helpless. He wasn’t even the one injured, and yet, he found himself locked in the bathroom crying more times than not.

 

Yuri had been his saving grace for those two weeks. He’d brought them food and the insults ceased with a tight lip. There had even been the one time he’d held Yuuri as he sobbed. Yuri had threatened murder if he ever told anyone about it, of course. It had been the first time Yuuri had laughed in months. 

 

The bus came to a stop and Yuuri got off, hands in his pockets as he walked solemnly the rest of the way to Yubileyny. Mila and Yuri were already sweating through their clothes from practice out on the ice, Yakov shouting out various instructions in Russian. Yuuri had gotten quite decent at the language after living there the last two years, though reading and writing sometimes remained a struggle. 

 

Taking a seat on the bench he pulled out his skates and slipped off his shoes. He’d have to share the ice now since he was so late, but it was ok.

 

Yuri stared at him as he stepped onto the ice, lazily gliding to the far side. The teen had grown a lot the year after Barcelona. Now eighteen, Yuri stood almost as tall as Viktor with broad shoulders and hair that went well down his back when it wasn't up in a bun. He’d filled out nicely.

 

That first year after dominating the circuit in his debut had been a wake-up call for Yuri, though. With his sudden growth spurt he had been thrown off balance and struggled to land his jumps for the first time in his life. In his anger, he’d ended up pushing himself too hard and sprained an ankle. It ended up being minor, but it had finally scared him into listening to Yakov and relearning his body properly. He barely qualified for the GPF and had ended up last. Yuri didn’t let it stop him, coming back with a vengence the next year, reclaiming his place as the world champion. 

 

“Oi, Katsudon,” Yuri called out, pushing off strong so he could quickly catch up to Yuuri. “You’re late. Where’s Viktor?”

 

Yuuri twirled around and came to a stop, eyes cast down onto the ice and his fingers tight on the hem of his shirt. “He isn’t feeling well today.”

 

“Is it his knee?” Yuri asked with a heavy frown.

 

“Yeah,” Yuuri responded simply. 

 

“Yuuri!” Yakov’s booming voice carried across the ice. Both Yuris looked up, but it was clear that the older man was calling to the Japanese one with a wave of his hand. 

 

“Hey,” Yuri reached out a hand and caught Yuuri’s before he was able to skate off. The teen was silent for a moment, green eyes unusually soft and his touch gentle. “He’s going to be ok. I think he might be more stubborn than you - if that’s even possible.”

 

Yuuri’s lips twitched with a small smile and he squeezed Yuri’s hand in thanks before slipping through the grip, skating over and coming to a stop in front of Yakov. There was a time when Yuuri  had been slightly afraid of the older Russian, quietly averting his gaze from the coach at all costs. Lately, though, those harsh lines had softened and the constant scowl had become a worried frown. Viktor’s injury had been hard on him too.

 

“I take it Vitya isn’t doing well today,” Yakov began, a hand on the barrier to steady himself - to hide his own worry from the other skaters. 

 

“He isn’t sleeping much,” Yuuri confirmed.

 

Sighing, Yakov nodded. “Go warm up. We’ll work on some spins and get you back in the rhythm of your jumps. Absolutely no quads, understand?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri nodded, a small blossom of warmth blooming in his chest. Yakov cared far more than he would ever admit to anyone.  _ “Spasibo.” _

 

“Hmph,” Yakov huffed. “Don’t thank me just yet.”

 

Yakov worked him hard and was far more critical than Viktor ever was, but Yuuri appreciated it all. He never argued or complained and soaked up every bit of advice that he could. On more than one occasion had Yakov admitted that he much preferred Yuuri as a student than both Viktor and Yuri. Although he was lacking in the raw talent the two Russians had, he more than made up for it in his enthusiasm and ability to  _ actually _ be coached. 

 

“That’s enough for today,” Yakov finally called the skaters in just after noon. “Spend the afternoon either in the gym or with Lilia. We start again tomorrow morning at seven sharp. Yuuri, you are more than welcome to join us.”

 

Yuuri smiled, but his fist clenched at his side. Yakov was already counting Viktor out. Should Yuuri be doing the same? No, of course not. Yuuri was Viktor’s husband, and it was up to him to stay positive. For both of them. 

 

“Hey,” Yuri brushed a shoulder up against him, knocking him out of the way so that he could exit off the ice first. “I’m going to Lilia’s. Do you want to join?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed out excitedly. Even though it wasn’t with Minako, Yuuri still loved his time in the dance studio. It was the one place that he could truly let his mind go and relax. It helped that Lilia absolutely adored him. Almost every time he went, she went on and on about how he should have been a danseur instead of a skater. It annoyed Yuri who had to work exceptionally hard to please the woman. It was the one thing that Yuuri would always be able to dangle over his head. 

 

“We should grab lunch first,” Yuri suggested. “You’re too skinny. I don’t like it. It’s weird.”

 

Yuuri genuinely smiled as he unlaced his skates and kicked them off. “I guess I haven’t really been eating much lately.”

 

“Last year you blew up like a freaking blimp in the off-season - especially after the wedding,” Yuri said as he threw his skates into his bag and pulled out his cheetah print sneakers. “How am I supposed to call you piggy when you aren’t a pig?”

 

“If anyone can think of something, it’s you,” Yuuri offered. Believe it or not, Yuri had mellowed out a bit in the past two years - well, mellow in terms of Yuri. He certainly still had his outbursts. Maybe Yuuri had just gotten immune to them. 

 

They grabbed pirozhki from a stand on the way to Lilia’s studio, mostly walking in a comfortable silence. The weather was perfect today, and Yuuri wished he could have spent it in the park with Viktor. And Makkachin. Every time Yuuri saw a dog, his throat tightened. They’d already talked about another dog, of course, but right now it just wasn’t feasible with Viktor’s condition. Yuuri would be gone at the rink most of the day and Viktor couldn’t walk. Maybe next year. 

 

“Your head is in the clouds,” Lilia commented, tapping Yuuri on the shoulder with her ruler. 

 

Yuuri hadn’t even realized he’d been day dreaming. “Sorry, Madam.”

 

“Hmm,” she hummed, arms crossed and chin tilted high. “Your movements are much freer that way. You aren’t thinking too hard about it. It’s the prettiest I’ve seen you on the barre.”

 

“Thank you, Madam,” Yuuri responded flatly, unable to find pride in her compliments. Yuri flashed him a look over his shoulder, concerned. Yuuri looked away.

 

“I know it’s early, but have either of you thought about your themes for the season?” Lilia asked, moving on from Yuuri. 

 

Yuuri had thought about it. A lot. Maybe it was all he could think about since the surgery. “I want it to be about overcoming. Persevering.”

 

Lilia flashed him a rare smile. “A fine theme.”

 

“Tch,” Yuri scoffed. “Boring.”

 

“And what is your theme, Yura?” Lilia asked him with a side-eye.

 

Yuri smirked. “Chaos.” The response earned him a hard slap on the back. “Ow! What was that for!?”

 

“You’re slouching. I keep hoping you’ll outgrow this phase of yours,” Lilia huffed. “It turns out we aren’t there yet.”

 

Yuri cursed as he rubbed at his lower back before straightening. Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle. It was hardly a phase. His surprising and rebellious exhibition in Barcelona had only been the start of it. Yuri was Yuri, though, always true to himself. Yuuri admired that. 

 

Lilia had them dance a simple and short routine, making mental notes of things each student needed to work on since coming back from the off season. Yuri stayed behind to help lock up since he still lived with Lilia. Yuuri threw on his light jacket and headed to the bus stop to head back to the mainland and his and Viktor’s apartment. 

 

A strong aroma of food hit his nose as he entered the apartment. Viktor turned his head and grinned. “Yuuri! Welcome home!” The man was standing by the stove, his weight shifted onto his left leg. 

 

Yuuri found himself taken aback, surprised at the cheerfulness of his husband compared to that morning. “Ah, you must be feeling better,” he said as he dropped his bag and shed his jacket.

 

“Much!” Viktor beamed, leaning in for a kiss on the lips. 

 

Yuuri tasted a tinge of vodka on his tongue. His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen for a bottle but he didn’t find any, and Viktor’s cheeks weren’t tinted pink. Maybe he’d just had a small glass earlier. That was perfectly normal for him. Still...he wasn't supposed to mix alcohol with the medication. “Dinner smells good.”

 

“Hmm,” Viktor nodded in agreement. “How was practice?”

 

“Good,” Yuuri opened a cabinet and reached for a glass to pour some water. “Yakov helped me and then I went to Lilia’s with Yurio. He said his theme this season was Chaos.”

 

Viktor let out a full-hearted laugh. “How did Lilia like that?”

 

“She didn’t,” Yuuri smiled in amusement. “I don’t think he’s going to budge on it, though.”

 

“Probably not,” Viktor agreed. “And what about you, my Yuuri? Have you picked out a theme?”

 

Yuuri playfully bumped his hip gently against Viktor on his good side. “Overcome Chihoko.”

 

Viktor dropped the spoon into the pan and his eyes went wide. “What?! Yuuri! You wound me! You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

 

“Never,” Yuuri laughed with a peck to his cheek. “You’ve already overcome Chihoko many times over, anyway. But I do want my theme to be about overcoming obstacles and perseverance. Because that’s what we’re going to do - together.” He grabbed both of Viktor’s hands in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin. “It’s going to be ok, Vitya. I just know it. You’ll go to physical therapy, and you’ll get strong and be able to walk and run again. You’ll be able to get out on the ice and even though you can’t do quads, you’ll do the most beautiful doubles the world has ever seen!”

 

Viktor smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Doubles? Wait until you see my singles. They’ll blow your mind.”

 

Yuuri released Viktor’s hands and melted against his chest, wrapping his arms around his waist but careful not to lean in so much as to throw him off balance.

 

Everyone had offered their unwavering support today. They had all offered words of encouragement, assuring Yuuri that everything was going to be alright - that he and Viktor would make it through this together. Hell, Yuuri had even sort of started to believe it. 

 

But even so… He couldn’t shake a nagging prickling at the base of his neck sending him a warning. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri started to realize that the blocks had never been put back into place, but instead had turned into a game of Jenga where they had simply taken up a new position while the base slowly chipped away. Waiting. At the moment, only a few blocks had been taken and moved to the top, but Yuuri felt the impending crash in his core, taunting him. It was like his anxiety, looming on the horizon, but for once it wasn’t Yuuri creating the problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! My beautiful beta has been a bit stressed a bit and took some time to get to the chapter....Thankfully (or regretfully, I think) there isn't quite the demand for this fic as my others, so I don't think too many people were waiting.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Viktor, what do you think?”

 

“Hmm?” Viktor’s head lifted from where he’d been resting his chin on his palm leaning against the ice barrier. “It looked great, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri’s frown deepened and his shoulders slumped. “Vitya...I fell.”

 

Viktor stiffened as he realized his mistake, his expression reflexively smoothing into the blank smile he put on whenever he was caught off guard. Yuuri could almost hear him trying to figure out how to justify his lack of attention. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri. Do it again. I promise I’ll pay attention this time.”

 

Yuuri could only sigh and bite the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from saying all the things running through his head as he skated off. There was no way he would land the jump now with so much on his mind. The throbbing on his hip was a burning reminder of how distracted he had been all practice. Maybe he was just as much to blame as Viktor was.

 

“You are too tight in your knees,” Yuri offered, brushing a shoulder into Yuuri as he skated past. “Allow yourself to be a little more elastic.”

 

“Right,” Yuuri mumbled to himself, taking in a deep breath and focusing his mind as he lapped around the rink to prepare for the jump. Bend the knees, allow them to be elastic. He went deeper into his take off, using the extra bend to send him higher into the air. It gave him much more time to come out of his rotations and he landed cleanly.

 

“Nice, Yuuri! Much better!” Mila winked and gave a thumbs up as she skated past him.

 

There was no clapping or cheering from the barrier, though. Yuuri looked over to Viktor and he was once again off in his own little world. 

 

It stung. Bad.

 

“How long are you going to put up with this, Katsudon?” Yuri hissed as he came up beside him suddenly. His nose was curled up in disgust as he glared at the oblivious Viktor. 

 

“It’s not a big deal, he’s just having an off day,” Yuuri tried, but he couldn’t even believe it himself. 

 

Viktor had been like this all week. Two days in, on Wednesday, Yuuri had the idea of sitting down and working on his short program together, something that Viktor could still be a part of and take an active role in. But even that ended up being mostly Yuuri coming up with ideas, while Viktor just nodded and agreed to everything - even the purposefully awful suggested Yuuri had made. Yuuri didn’t like to choreograph his own programs, but he supposed this year he’d have no choice. 

 

“As much as I’d like to say you’re an idiot, you aren’t that big of an idiot,” Yuri huffed, pulling Yuuri to a stop so they were face-to-face. “Look. I’m not saying Viktor doesn’t have a lot on his mind and that he doesn’t have a good reason to be distracted - he does - but you have to think about yourself and your career. Is having him as your coach right now really the best idea?”

 

No. It wasn’t. Yuuri knew that, but Viktor’s reputation had already taken a huge hit after his injury and forced retirement. Although Viktor never really talked about it with him, Yuuri knew that the social media articles and comments bothered him. If Yuuri suddenly fired him as his coach, it would just make things worse. Yuuri couldn’t do that to his husband. This was the only part of the ice he had left. “I can’t just fire him, Yura.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Yuri argued. “Yakov would take you on and Viktor could be like an assistant when he’s not high on painkillers.”

 

It was a solid arrangement and it made Yuuri hate it all even more. “Things are fine, okay?” He said, harsher than he meant to. 

 

Yuri huffed and turned his back to Yuuri in an angry response. “Fine. But when you fail to even qualify for the GPF this year, I better not find you in a bathroom stall crying. You chose this.”

 

And like that, Yuuri was done for the day. Yuri’s comment hurt almost as bad as Viktor’s lack of interest in the practice. Skating to the exit he grabbed his skate guards from the rail and slid them on his blades.

 

“Huh? Done already?” Viktor blinked in confusion. 

 

“I’m tired,” was the only response he could muster up. 

 

Viktor should have given him a disappointed frown followed by a lecture on how he would never win gold without putting forth the effort. He should have convinced Yuuri to get back on the ice and work until he wasn’t frustrated anymore. There was none of that, only a nod and a wince as Viktor put his weight on his right leg and followed after Yuuri with a slight limp. Yuuri felt an overwhelming urge to cry which was stupid. It was still so early in the off season. Viktor would only get stronger and healthier as the days went on. If he could just make it through these next few months it would be totally fine. 

 

“Yuuri, let’s go to Solntse on the way home!” Viktor suggested, his frown quickly replaced with a focused grin. “Or maybe Breaking Bad if you feel like beer? Maybe beer would be better.”

 

“What? Vitya, we have practice tomorrow. I can’t drink,” Yuuri sighed, working on unlacing his boots. “Are you sure  _ you  _ should be on your painkillers?”

 

Viktor groaned playfully, a hint of the Viktor Yuuri knew and loved before the injury. “Yuuri is so mean to me!! Though you are right, it would be rather irresponsible of me as your coach! But maybe on our next day off? I’m so lonely and cooped up in the apartment all the time without you!”

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile as Viktor wrapped his arms around him, pulling him for a tight squeeze. It made him feel guilty he didn’t defend Viktor more to Yuri, or at least defend the idea of keeping Viktor on as his coach. Surely Viktor was feeling lonely without Makkachin there. When Yuuri was working out or with Lilia, Viktor was either at therapy or was alone and he couldn’t really make it around the city comfortably just yet.  _ Everyone’s just overreacting...Viktor is going to be fine. He just needs more support.  _ “Ok. I promise, our next day off we go wherever you want.”

 

Viktor beamed at him and it was like everything was fine again. As quickly as they had been knocked out of place, the blocks of their life realigned. They returned to their apartment and Yuuri helped Viktor through his stretches and exercises. Viktor whined and complained at first, but the moment Yuuri offered up kisses as a reward they got through them without much fuss. It was wonderful.

 

As Viktor showered Yuuri started on dinner, something more elaborate than usual since they left the ice so early. He even caught himself happily humming as he sliced vegetables, the relief brought by the change in their afternoon moods holding fast. He barely noticed as the fridge opened next to him, Viktor casually pulling out a beer, until he heard the tab pop. “Vitya! I thought we were waiting until our day off?!”

 

“To go out,” Viktor winked.  _ “I  _ don’t have to skate and run ten kilometers tomorrow.”

 

Yuuri nearly dropped all the utensils straight into the pot. “ _ NANI?! _ Ten? Vitya!”

 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you got off the ice early,” Viktor pointed out, taking a comfortable seat on the couch with his beer. “We need to work on your stamina, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri blinked a few times in confusion before he let out a happy huff in defeat. Maybe Viktor had been paying attention after all. Even with the large brace a cold reminder against the back of his thigh, Yuuri found himself falling asleep immediately that night, held close to Viktor’s chest. For the first time in a while, he couldn’t help but be excited for the new dawn to come. Tomorrow would be different. He just knew it. 

 

The next day was different alright. It threw Yuuri right out of the temporary dream he had put himself in and back into reality. Yuuri started to realize that the blocks had never been put back into place, but instead had turned into a game of Jenga where they had simply taken up a new position while the base slowly chipped away. Waiting. At the moment, only a few blocks had been taken and moved to the top, but Yuuri felt the impending crash in his core, taunting him. It was like his anxiety, looming on the horizon, but for once it wasn’t Yuuri creating the problems.

 

Viktor had shown up and was paying attention. Too much attention. “No, no, no!” Viktor called out. “That’s not right!”

 

Yuuri threw his hands up in the air in frustration, pulling at his hair. This was the 8th time Viktor had made him re-do this part, and he wouldn’t let Yuuri move on in the program until it met his standards. The problem was, Yuuri was beginning to think that was impossible. “Viktor! I don’t know what you want! I’m doing the twizzle into the choctaw!”

 

“That’s not how I envisioned it!” He threw back. 

 

“Ugh!” Yuuri practically stamped his skate against the ice. “Then YOU do it!” The other skaters on the ice all immediately stopped mid-sequence and all looked over to stare. Yuuri gasped, throwing his hands to his mouth. He wished he could swallow his tongue right then and there. “Viktor, I-”

 

Viktor slammed Yuuri’s guards he had been holding against the rail. “Well, Yuuri,” his voice was low but quivering, “I wish I could.”

 

His husband turned his back and Yuuri immediately scrambled after him, almost slipping and falling in his haste. “N-no! Vitya! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it! I-”

 

Yakov met him at the barrier, eyes sad and unusually sympathetic. “Let him go,Yuuri. I will talk to him.”

 

_ But I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please!  _ Yuuri couldn’t breathe and his heart was pounding against his chest. Someone must have had a pillow over his face, the entire rink going hazy as he struggled to get air, and he felt himself fall to the ice as pain shot through his legs, the back of his blades digging into his thighs as he curled himself into a ball. Wave after wave of fear crashed into him and his stomach seemed just fall out of him completely. 

 

“Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri whimpered and curled further into himself.

 

“Hey… Yuuri, it’s pretty cold down there.” A gentle and small hand started rubbing circles into his back. “We wouldn’t want you to get that pretty face of yours stuck to it, now would we? Come on, sweetie.”

 

Yuuri could feel a tug on his arm but his body just fell limp no matter how hard he tried to let himself follow the pull. An arm wrapped around his back, pulling him up and back so that another could curl up underneath his knees. Suddenly he was weightless and he began to fall deeper into panic, hands reaching out and grasping for something - anything.

 

“OW! Fuck! Katsudon, watch it! I’m going to drop your fat ass!”

 

“Yura, shut up, you aren’t helping! Get him off the ice! Yuuri, you’re doing so great!” The soft hands were on him again and he was grounded once more. A warmth draped itself across his shoulders. “Slow breaths, Yuuri. Nice and even. Do you know if he has his medicine?”

 

“Yeah, in his bag. He always has it on him.”

 

“Go get it. Yuuri, stay with me. There you go. Nice and steady. Can you tell me where you are?”

 

Yuuri’s heart was still thumping harshly, but had slowed in its pace. Everything was still a cloud in his field of vision, but the fog slowly started to dissipate in his mind. “R-Russia.”

 

“Yeah! Do you know where in Russia?”

 

Yuuri let out a shuddered breath, pulling the warmth tighter around him. “S-St. Petersburg.”

 

“Right! Do you know who I am?”

 

Yuuri blinked, trying to focus his eyes until there was just the normal blur from his lack of glasses. Fire red hair and a kind face. “Mila.”

 

Mila beamed, her hands gently resting on Yuuri’s knees. “So good! Is there something I can get you, Yuuri? To help?”

 

Yuuri realized his fingers were clenched in the fabric of a Russian warm-up jacket that had been wrapped around him. He was sitting off the ice, back propped up against one of the large windows that made up the Ice Palace. The panic started to settle but the anxiety crept up, stinging at his eyes with tears. “I messed up.”

 

“Stop.” Mila brushed back his bangs caringly. “We all know you didn’t mean what you said - Vitya, too. We’re all still getting used to it.”

 

“Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri looked up, Yuri holding out a medicine bottle and a water bottle for him to take. With a sniff Yuuri maneuvered his hands from beneath the coat and grabbed the proffered items. His hand shook with an incredible force as he tried to pop the top of the medicine bottle and he felt the crushing force against his heart again.

 

Yuri knelt down next to Mila and took took the bottle back, opening the top. “How many?”

 

“J-just one,” Yuuri answered. Yuri placed one pill into the palm of Yuuri’s hand and he swallowed it, throwing it back with a splash of water. There was a yank on his right ankle and he watched as Yuri started to unlace his boot in his lap. Yuuri couldn’t help but stare blankly in confusion.

 

“What?” Yuri started to unlace with a fiercer pull. “It’s not like you’re going back out on the ice,  _ baka. _ ”

 

“You could be a little gentler, Yura,” Mila nudged him, working on Yuuri’s other skate.

 

It wasn’t that. Of course Yuuri wasn’t going back out on the ice after that. It was likely he couldn’t even stand. Yuuri was just confused that Yuri Plisetsky - world champion and the Ice Tiger of Russia - was taking off his skates. “S-Sorry.”

 

“Why the hell are you apologizing?” Yuri yanked the skate off angrily, his face suddenly softening when he noticed Yuuri flinch. “It’s not your fault Viktor is a shit coach.You don’t see Yakov out on the ice trying to show me moves because he can’t explain it, do you?”

 

“Oh, can I ask him to do that?” Mila giggled.

 

“It’s not his fault.” Viktor had  _ always _ been out on the ice with him, whether it was as a coach or a competitor. He had never had to try and explain things in that way - he could just show Yuuri his vision. There had been a time when Yuuri thought he might never step out on the ice again because of his depression, and it had been the worst time of his life. A part of him knew what Viktor was going through, but at least Yuuri had a choice to one day return. Viktor was at the mercy of his recovery. 

 

“Why are you always defending him?” Yuri growled. “The idiot may be your husband but he still has to be a decent human being. Viktor is being selfish by staying on as your coach, and you know it. He knows it, too. Maybe after today, he’ll finally be man enough to do something about it.”

 

Mila pinched Yuri hard on the arm. “Ok, that’s enough. Yuuri, are you going to be ok? Do you need us to get you anything?”

 

Yuuri just shook his head, hugging his knees back up to his chest. Mila pulled Yuri away back to the ice, arguing with him in rapid Russian that faded and was too much for Yuuri to try and translate. He stayed sitting there, letting the sounds blend into an indiscernible muffle. 

 

Time passed, slowly, quickly, he couldn’t tell. There was no one on the ice anymore when Yakov tapped him on the shoulder. Yuuri jolted in surprise, and the older man apologized quickly. “Go home, Yuuri. Things will be okay. Vitya just needs some time. Take tomorrow off. Try to talk and spend time together. He needs your support now more than ever.”

 

Yuuri was sluggish in his movements, grabbing his skates and heading to the locker room. He still had ten kilometers to run, he remembered. So he ran. And ran. And ran. By the time he finally came to a stop at the base of the apartment his legs were wobbling and there was a mix of sweat and tears running down his cheeks. Though the summer Russian sun still shone, it was late. Yuuri expected Viktor to already be there when he turned the key and pushed the door open, but the apartment was dark and eerily silent. 

 

With a quivering lip he wiped at his eyes and dropped his bag by the door, unzipping his jacket and moving to hang it up. His arm stopped as he realized that it wasn’t his Team Japan jacket he was hanging up, but Yuri’s blue Team Russia coat. Pulling it back to his chest he ran his fingers over it. The jacket had swallowed him much like Viktor’s did. Yuri had grown so much.

 

Trudging to the laundry room he placed the jacket in the washer and started it on delicate. It was drenched in sweat and there was no way he could return it to Yuri that way. 

 

Yuuri’s shower lasted as long as the hot water did, the man curled up in the corner as the water sprayed over his skin. The longer he waited, the more likely it would be that Viktor would be there waiting for him in the living room and Yuuri could apologize and maybe - just maybe - they could gently replace the block that had been removed from their stack. When Yuuri finally turned the water off and wrapped himself in a towel, he emerged to an apartment just as empty and quiet as the one he had come into. 

 

Pulling out his phone he started to send messages, waiting a few minutes between each of them to give Viktor a chance to respond. There was nothing for ten minutes, and then his phone chimed. 

 

 

 

Yuuri’s heart immediately dropped through his stomach. It was as good as having given no response at all. The ultimate cold shoulder. Without even thinking about the time difference he pulled up his Skype app, scrolling through it for Phichit’s name with quivering hands and tears threatening to spill. The phone rang and rang with no answer, and Yuuri immediately regretted his decision. It was well past midnight in Thailand. Just as his finger hovered over the ‘end call’ button, Phichit picked up.

 

_ “Yuuri?” _ His voice was heavy with sleep. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Yuuri hiccuped, covering his mouth as he tried not to cry as he curled up on the bed. 

 

_ “Yuuri, what’s wrong?” _ Phichit was instantly alert.

 

“I messed up, Phichit,” Yuuri sobbed, the tears coming in full force. “I messed up so bad.”

 

_ “Hey, hey, deep breaths,” _ he encouraged.  _ “Tell me what happened.” _

 

“He just kept yelling at me and I got frustrated because I didn’t understand what he wanted from me!” Yuuri began. “He just kept saying I wasn't doing it right, that it didn’t match his vision. S-so, I told him to…” He squeezed his eyes shut, shivering with the guilt and horror at what he had said. “I told him to come out and show me.”

 

Phichit sighed heavily on the other end of the line.  _ “Ok. That...You probably shouldn’t have said that. But I know you didn’t mean it, Yuuri, and I’m sure Viktor knows that, too.” _

 

“Then why hasn’t he come home?!” Yuuri cried out in frustration and worry, grabbing at his black locks.

 

_ “Because even though you didn’t mean it, it still hurt,”  _ Phichit began. _ “Viktor hasn’t not been on the ice since he was like, what? Five? I can’t even imagine how bad it must suck to have to look at the ice every day and know you can’t step onto it. It’s going to take  _ months _ for him to recover enough to do something as simple as a crossover. He’s going to get frustrated and he’s going to get angry. It’s not directed at you, though, even if it may seem that way.” _

 

Sniffing and wiping at his eyes, Yuuri asked, “Then what do I do?”

 

_ “Just be there for him,” _ he instructed.  _ “Some days you may have to put up with him yelling. You may have to put up with him wanting to be alone. But he’ll come back, Yuuri. As long as you’re there, he’ll come back. He loves you more than anything.” _

 

Yuuri was silent on the other end, unable to come up with anything to say through his fear and doubt.

 

_ “Hey. I know it’ll be hard, but try and get some sleep. Everything will be fine in the morning, you’ll see.” _

 

“Ok,” Yuuri finally agreed. “Thanks, Phichit.”

 

_ “Anytime, Yuuri. Night.” _

 

Yuuri ended the call, putting his phone on the charger on the nightstand before curling underneath the covers. Now more than ever he wished that Makkachin was there for him to cling to. The poodle had always found a way to ease his anxiety and help lull him to sleep. But neither Makkachin nor Viktor were there. 

 

When Yuuri woke up the next morning, Viktor still hadn’t come home. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the doors at the end of the rink started to open up and the zamboni appeared to prep for the next session Yuuri finally stepped off the ice having accomplished nothing. Skates off and discarded in front of him he pulled in his knees and stared blankly in front of him. No texts. No calls. Nothing. What if he returned to the apartment and found everything gone? What if Viktor had packed everything and left?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man...it's really hard to keep motivation going with all the antis/hateful anons AND having a story that doesn't have much of a following. But somehow I mustered up the strength to finish another chapter. Think of this a bit like the calm before the storm....A break from the pain ;D

By now it was muscle memory. Or at least, that’s the only way any of this made sense. One moment Yuuri was crying in the apartment and the next he was crying on the ice. The journey inbetween was completely lost to him. He’d been so beside himself waking up with Viktor still absent he hadn’t remembered getting dressed or taking the bus to the rink. Or did he run? He honestly couldn’t remember.

 

What he did remember was Yakov yelling at him for even being at the rink. Yuuri had remembered the coach had told him to take the day off to work things out with Viktor and then immediately erupted into tears. Even though he had gotten onto the ice, he had done nothing but a few figures up and down the rink. The other skaters didn’t bother him - not even Yuri - and he pretended not to notice their looks of pity. 

 

When the doors at the end of the rink started to open up and the zamboni appeared to prep for the next session Yuuri finally stepped off the ice having accomplished nothing. Skates off and discarded in front of him he pulled in his knees and stared blankly in front of him. No texts. No calls. Nothing. What if he returned to the apartment and found everything gone? What if Viktor had packed everything and left? Oh god, what if -

 

“Yuuri? Come on now, you know you can’t leave your hard guards on your skates like that. It’ll rust the blades.”

 

Yuuri blinked rapidly, squinting his eyes to make out Georgi kneeling in front of him removing the skate guards and wiping off the wet blades with a towel. “S-sorry…”

 

Georgi smiled up at him, kind and calm. “No need to be sorry, Yuuri. Ah, there we go.” He slipped the blue soaker over the final blade and neatly laid the boots next to Yuuri’s feet. 

 

“Why are you here?” Yuuri asked as the retired skater rose and took a seat next to him on the bench.

 

That warm smile faded. “Because I had a feeling that Viktor hasn’t contacted you and that you were probably worried. He’s at my place. Still sleeping off last night, I imagine. He was....very emotional last night when he came over.”

 

Of course he was. Because Yuuri had gone and said something stupid and hurtful. Feeling his lower lip tremble he sniffed. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

 

Georgi chuckled, much to Yuuri’s annoyance and confusion. “Vitya said much the same thing last night in his drunken meltdown. Ah, soulmates…” He sighed longingly before continuing, “None of this is anyone’s fault, Yuuri. The two of you just have to learn to communicate a little better.”

 

Communication. Yuuri’s worst skill ever.  Wiping at a small tear that had formed he sucked in a steadying breath, determined. “I want to fix this. How can I?”

 

“Talk with him. Be honest with each other. Tell him how you are feeling and don’t hold anything back,” he instructed. “It’s best to lay it all out on the table at once. I know that Viktor wants to fix things, too. And Yuuri? Know that you two aren’t alone, ok? We are here to help you. All you have to do is ask.”

 

“Ok,” Yuuri agreed. “Ok.” He repeated it, for good measure, trying to make himself believe it. “ _ Spasibo _ , Georgi.”

 

“Anything for true love,” he smiled.

 

With a new found determination Yuuri packed his skates and headed home, using the jog to help clear his mind completely of all of his doubts. Viktor was going to wake up, come home, and they were going to talk it all out. Things were going to get better. With every step he gained confidence. By the time he reached their door he had so much pent up energy he dropped the keys trying to fumble with them. Finally slipping the golden key into the door he unlocked it and opened the door. Making sure to lock it behind him he moved to slip off his shoes. His body came to an immediate halt. Viktor’s slippers were absent. He was home.

 

Suddenly all his anticipation and confidence vanished.

 

Oh god, he wasn’t ready. He was supposed to have at least a few hours to prepare his speech begging for forgiveness and then a few more hours after that to go through every possible scenario in which it could all go terribly wrong. With a shaking hand he pushed the door open and stepped in. Viktor’s eyes were immediately on him. 

 

“Yuuri! Welcome home!” Viktor’s heart-shaped smile was large and his blue eyes were sparkling. Like nothing had ever happened. Except there were bags underneath his eyes and his usually neatly groomed hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. 

 

Yuuri dropped his skating bag and immediately broke down, completely unable to take the faked response from his husband. “Vitya, I’m so sorry! I’m so so so so sorry!” The moment he felt arms around him he clung desperately, fists grabbing onto his husband’s shirt with a deadly grip. 

 

“No Yuuri, I’m the one who is sorry. I never should have gotten angry at you like that,” Viktor apologized, burying his face against Yuuri’s hair on the top of his head. Now, his expression matched his appearance: exhausted. “I know you didn’t mean it. I overreacted.”

 

Yuuri didn’t have a response, too busy crying into Viktor’s chest and enjoying the feeling of being in his arms again. It was only one night, but it had felt like an eternity. He wished he could go back in time. Go back to Euro’s and keep Viktor from going on the ice. Convince him just to somehow call it quits and retire. But Yuuri couldn’t go back in time, and this was the hand Viktor was dealt. They both had to learn how to deal with it.  

 

“I just wish,” Viktor’s voice trembled, “so badly that I could be out on the ice with you.” 

 

“I wish that, too,” Yuuri sobbed, clinging tighter. 

 

They stood like that, clinging to each other like a lifeline while they let all their tears fall from their eyes and the sorrow from their chests. The couple had been through so much in the last few months and never had really properly grieved. This was something they should have done a long time ago before it had festered like this.

 

Viktor lightly patted Yuuri’s shoulders when they both quieted down, though still before Yuuri was quite ready to let go. “Yuuri, I’m sorry, but my knee...I need to sit.”

 

“Ah, of course!” Yuuri quickly pulled the rest of the way back and helped Viktor hobble over to the couch where they sat. It was impossible to miss the Russian’s flinch of pain and Yuuri immediately accepted the offered hand and its grip. When the pain eased, so too did the tensed muscles in Viktor’s hand. “What can I do, Vitya? Please tell me.”

 

“Just… have more faith than I do that I’ll win,” Viktor smiled softly. “That I can beat this.”

 

Bringing Viktor’s hand up to his lips, Yuuri gave the knuckles a gentle kiss. “Of course you can beat this. You’re Viktor Nikiforov.”

 

“Nikiforov-Katsuki,” Viktor corrected with a small sniff.

 

Yuuri grinned. Anytime a reporter or television network forgot to properly hyphenate his name, Viktor always got so angry and defensive. “Right. Nikiforov-Katsuki. In that case, it’s impossible for you not to beat this.”

 

They fell into a comfortable silence then, Viktor’s thumb brushing across the soft skin of Yuuri’s hand. After last night and the morning’s stress, this quiet scene felt like a balm on his nerves. But...there was still more to discuss. Yuuri peeked at his husband’s face and said quietly but seriously, “Vitya...promise me you’ll talk to me. You’ll tell me if you’re hurting or if you need help. Please don’t shut me out.”

 

Viktor swallowed and squeezed his husband’s hand. “Ok… Ok. And you’ll promise to tell me if I’m being too much? Don’t let me hurt you.”

 

Yuuri leaned forward, brushing a strand of silver hair out of Viktor’s face. “I promise.” 

 

Carefully taking Yuuri’s hand in his, Viktor placed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Did we get back together then?”

 

Yuuri scoffed with a smile. They had to be broken up to get back together, but Yuuri knew better than to let his anxiety blow the statement out of proportion in a moment like this. “Yeah, we’re back together.” With a gentle pat to Viktor’s good knee he stood. “I think I’m going to make lunch. I didn’t eat anything this morning. Are you hungry?”

 

“Very,” Viktor nodded. “I should probably do my exercises… I didn’t do them last night.”

 

With a hum of agreement Yuuri leaned down for a quick kiss. “You can do that while I cook then. Does it hurt much today?”

 

“Not really,” Viktor responded, starting to get into position to start on his physical therapy exercises while Yuuri padded to the kitchen. “Though, to be fair, I haven’t been on it much. I took the bus from Georgi’s even though it’s nearby.”

 

“Good. You can start walking more after the therapist says it’s okay, not before,” Yuuri stated. “You still have to use crutches when you walk for more than a few minutes. Don’t press it.”

 

“ _ Da, da _ ,” Viktor sighed, a slight twitch in his face as he started working on his first exercise. 

 

Yuuri let out an exasperated sigh, but couldn’t help but smile right after. Everything was fine. It was good. They’d talked it out and it was all back to normal. Yuuri happily worked on slicing vegetables and preparing their meal while listening to Viktor moan and groan about his exercises.  Maybe he could slip in a treat after dinner for Viktor, a small reward for making it through. Yuuri had been to physical therapy before, and while his injuries had been nowhere near what Viktor was having to go through, he remembered it wasn’t too fun. 

 

The rest of the day they spent completely together, watching terrible soaps on television and cuddling on the couch. It was amazing how easily they fell back into their normal routine like the fight had never happened. Yuuri felt his heart at ease when they both slipped under the covers that night, alarms set to get up for the rink in the morning. 

 

/*/

 

“Yuuri, I was thinking,” Viktor started as he watched Yuuri lace up his boots on the opposite bench.

 

“Hmm?” Yuuri questioned, not taking his eyes off the task at hand.

 

“About how I can be a better coach. You said that you used to copy my routines with Yuuko when you were younger, right?” he asked.

 

Yuuri glanced up for just a second and nodded. “Un. I could probably still do all of them really.”

 

“So then you know that part in my short program from my junior year? When I was 14?” Viktor paused for Yuuri to answer, but his husband could only squint in thought. “Darkness and Frost?”

 

Yuuri’s face lit up. “Ah, yes!”

 

Viktor’s face lit up in a sort of excitement. “So then you know the part after my first quad? Where I did the twizzle to the choctaw to the spread eagle?”

 

Finishing tying off his skate, Yuuri paused to replay the routine in his head. When he reached the point of the program that Viktor was talking about, his eyes widened. “That’s what you meant when you were trying to tell me what to do for my routine!”

 

“Yes, yes!” Viktor clapped in excitement. “I thought hard about how I could better convey my intentions to you without getting on the ice. Knowing what a fan you were, I figured I could use my own routines to help guide you.”

 

“What a fan I still am,” Yuuri corrected with a smile. “And always will be. That’s perfect, Viktor. I’m fairly certain I remember most of your programs, but we can always look at film to help.”

 

“I expect it to be just as good - if not better - than my own execution!” Viktor beamed, his heart-shaped smile in full effect.

 

When Yuuri stepped out onto the ice he felt warmth. His heart was at ease and the worries he’d carried with him on the ice the previous days were completely off his chest. Already he could tell in just his warm-up that today would be a good day. His movements were graceful and light, and his mind was empty. 

 

Maybe too empty. Yuuri just missed slamming right into Yuri as he worked on his outside edges. Though, Yuri looked like he had purposely moved into his path, a frown on his face. “Ah, hi, Yurio. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

 

“No shit,” Yuri huffed. “So… you and the old man work things out? You seem happier.”

 

Yuuri smiled at Yuri’s concern. “We talked.”

 

Yuri hummed, narrowing his eyes. “So he did the right thing and resigned as your coach?”

 

“What? No, of course not.” Yuuri frowned, an edge of irritation at the mere thought. “I apologized for what I said and he apologized for his reaction. We talked things over and think we have a plan going forward for better communication.”

 

“And what about your skating?”

 

“We have a plan for that too,” Yuuri said stiffly. His good mood was becoming hard to maintain under this sudden aggression.

 

“And how long do you think that’s gonna last, Katsudon?” Yuri huffed. “You’re living in a fantasy world.”

 

Over the years Yuuri had gotten really good at not letting the teen’s words get under his skin. After all, they usually weren’t as vicious as the tone might have insinuated. Yuri cared, which was why he got so angry, but this was pushing it. He began to feel angry himself, looking at the younger man’s judgmental expression. “I didn’t ask your opinion.”

 

“Yuuri! Stop chit-chatting and skate!” Viktor called out playfully with a wave.

 

“I have work to do,” Yuuri said sharply, effectively killing the conversation as he turned on his blade and skated off to his husband. If Yuri wanted to talk bad about Viktor, then he could do it to his own face. But the other man didn’t follow, and Yuuri was privately glad. Still, his good mood was thoroughly crushed and the scowl on his face must’ve been obvious, because Viktor was already frowning when he came to a stop. 

 

“Are you ok?” Viktor asked, straightening up against the barrier. His eyes slid past Yuuri to some point further along the ice, then back.

 

Yuuri forced a smile. “I’m fine, sorry. I’m ready to start.”

 

“Ok, from the top then with the new element. If I like what I see, then we’ll try and finish the short today, ok?”

 

Yuuri nodded firmly, positioning himself in his starting pose. His body didn’t feel as weightless as it had moments ago.  _ Just let it go. He didn’t mean anything by it.  _ Yuri was Yuri. Everything with Viktor was fine, and he was going to prove it to them all.

 

With a deep breath to ground himself, he began.

 

/*/

 

The next few days of training were like transporting back in a dream to their days in Hasetsu. Yuuri and Viktor fell into an easy routine now that Viktor had a way to show Yuuri what he was envisioning.They finally finished Yuuri’s short program - well, mostly. Although Yuuri felt very happy with it, he could just see the wheels spinning in Viktor’s head. The slight wrinkle of his nose the night before when Yuuri had mentioned it to Phichit might have been nothing for any other skater, but Yuuri had grown to know that expression in the years prior. Something about the program made him unhappy.

 

“Vitya, why don’t you just say what’s on your mind instead of making me guess?” Yuuri huffed playfully, hands on his hips as he approached the barrier after finishing a run through.

 

“Hmmm.” Viktor pondered, his index finger to his lips. “I’m not quite happy with the transition of the triple combination into the spin. Do you think you can do a spread eagle coming out of the salchow? You’d need to then three-turn into the flying sit.”

 

“Like a separate movement or right out of the landing?” Yuuri asked, trying to visualize his ask.

 

“Right out of the landing, if you can,” Viktor clarified. “Ah, I think I did it in my  _ Innocence _ program - the short.”

 

Yuuri remembered that program. It was the one Viktor did his first year in the senior division and one that Yuuri had watched obsessively before his own senior debut. Like a film behind his eyes, he started to run through the program. Eventually, he frowned. “Are you sure that’s the right one?” he asked. “I don’t remember anything like that.”

 

“Really?” Viktor blinked and then pulled out his phone. “Hold on, I’ll pull up a video. I know it was that program.”

 

Yuuri hummed in acknowledgment, using this time to take a much needed break. He toweled off his face and took a sip from his water bottle as Viktor searched for the right video. It took barely any time before the distinctive soft music of that program played from the phone. Yuuri thought to lean in and watch, but Viktor kept the screen angled towards himself. His husband kept frowning as the minutes passed and, eventually, the music ended for applause. “Vitya?”

 

“I… I guess that wasn’t the right program,” Viktor admitted, his voice almost a whisper. Yuuri could hear the disappointment. “I could have sworn…”

 

Yuuri was quick to offer a smile. “Vitya, you’ve done so many programs! I’m sure it must be hard to keep them straight. Do you remember what you were wearing? Maybe I can help find the right one. What was the jump combination into the spread eagle?”

 

Viktor obediently held out his phone for Yuuri, but there was a lingering frown on his features. “Um, it was a triple axel, loop, triple salchow.”

 

“Hmm.” Yuuri started to scroll through the programs on Youtube listed under Viktor. “Long hair or short?”

 

“Long,” Viktor said certainly and then paused. “...Maybe? I think the outfit was dark blue and purple. Or maybe it was red…”

 

Viktor was clearly flustered and Yuuri felt his confidence deteriorating fast. With a determined bite of his lip, he started wracking his brain for the sequence in question. For some reason, Yuuri seemed to remember the spread eagle out of the salchow now as they discussed it. “Wait. Vitya, was it the  _ In Remembrance _ program?” Finding the video on Youtube, he tapped on it and held the phone up so they could both see.

 

It only took a few seconds for Viktor’s face to light up. “Yes! Yuuri! That’s the one! You’re a lifesaver!” With strong arms Viktor practically attacked Yuuri with a hug, the phone almost going flying out of the skater’s hands onto the ice. 

 

Screen safe from ultimate demise, Yuuri held the phone back up so they could both see. Sure enough, a minute into the program, Viktor performed the sequence in question on the small screen. Yuuri nodded firmly in understanding and handed the phone back. “Ok! I think I can do it.”

 

Landing into a spread eagle was not easy even for the most flexible of skaters. It required perfect balance and technique. Even the slightest of fumbles would ruin it. Secretly, Yuuri was panicking. This was hard, but he felt determined to do it for Viktor. 

 

Taking a lap to gain speed, Yuuri moved into the check for the axel before launching himself off the ice. Immediately upon landing, he pivoted off the outside edge of his landing foot into the half-loop and straight into the salchow. As soon as he felt the weight in his knee as he landed, he shifted to open his hips and moved into the spread eagle. It wasn’t as smooth as it could have been. It moved his flying sit spin a little further to the left of the rink than he would have liked, despite his attempted correction in the three-turn. 

 

Viktor still clapped and nodded in approval. “It could use some work, but the idea is there! I think I like that much better than before, no?”

 

Yuuri smiled, pleased with the response he got from Viktor as a coach. “It feels good to know the program is complete.” Well, it was kind of complete before, but now it was complete according to Mr. Nikiforov-Katsuki’s exacting standards. “Is there anything else you want me to work on today?”

 

“My, Yuuri,” Viktor chuckled, “even off the ice your stamina exhausts me. I think we can call it a day. Did you still want to go to Lilia’s while I’m at therapy?”

 

“Mm.” Yuuri nodded, looking forward to spending time in the studio. “But only if you’re sure you don’t want me to go with you.”

 

Viktor grabbed his crutches and positioned them beneath his armpits with a wink. “I hear I get to trade these bad boys out for a cane since I’m doing so well. Sexy.”

 

“Very,” Yuuri chuckled. “Ok, well, text me when you get home if you beat me, ok? Just so I know you’re ok.”

 

“I will! Tell Lilia hi for me!” Viktor called as he slowly and carefully started to crutch his way on down the rink away from Yuuri. 

 

Yuuri felt a small blush of happiness dust his cheeks. They’d successfully completed the short program and the music for his free had been cut. Everything was progressing smoothly. Yuuri sort of wanted to shove it in Yuri’s face. 

 

“Keep staring like that and you’ll have Lilia kicking your ass for being late.”

 

Speak of the devil. Yuuri smiled at the familiar threat despite himself, and gave his usual retort as he turned to face the blonde. “The Madam likes me too much, and you know it.”

 

“Tch.” Yuri scoffed, knowing it was true, and Yuuri knew then that they were fine. 

 

Yuri would never actually say it - words that meant anything were hard for him - but this, right here, was his way of an apology. He’d kept his distance since their last encounter about Viktor, and now he was making an effort to return things to normal as though the words had never been spoken. 

 

Yuuri had learned how to speak Yuri.

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be late, so hurry up, Piggy.”

 

“Hai, hai,” Yuuri sighed, grabbing his water and his towel and started to skate off the ice, Yuri in step with him as they moved. 

 

“Hey,” Yuri stopped Yuuri just before he stepped off the ice. The teen looked uncharacteristically sweet and almost embarrassed by the words he was about to speak. “Your program looks good. I liked the eagle out of the salchow. It’s pretty.”

 

With warmth spreading through him at the apology and compliment, Yuuri smiled. “Thank you. Viktor did good with the suggestion. Now, let’s hurry before Lilia kicks  _ your _ ass when we’re late.”

 

Yuri growled in response and Yuuri laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor didn’t say much the rest of the practice and he and Yuuri parted ways from the rink in an almost awkward silence. While Viktor went on to his physical therapy, Yuuri started into a jog to try and clear his mind. It failed miserably, the haunting thoughts simply chasing him the entire way back to their apartment. The shower he took after he returned home was no better. Beneath the steaming water he had nowhere to run and he was trapped with the dark thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE *insert Mushu gif here*. This has actually been done for two weeks sorrryyyyyyy. Anyways! Enjoy the last 'happy' chapter!!!

“So, you just gonna waste over half of your lesson time looking at videos with Viktor on the phone?”

 

Yuuri blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the strange question from Yuri. “Huh? What do you mean?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes so far back into his head Yuuri was afraid they might just stay there. “Are you kidding me? You spend more time rinkside than you actually do skating. I told you - get a choreographer.”

 

The frown on Yuuri’s face couldn’t grow deep enough at the comment. Just how much clearer did he have to make it that he wasn’t going to do that to Viktor? “I know it’s unconventional, but this works for us, Yurio. Things have been going really well.”

 

“You are the only skater here that hasn’t completed their free program,” Yuri pointed out. “Have you even picked the music yet?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri replied back quickly, “and we’ve started choreography, too.”

 

With a huff, Yuri crossed his arms and moved into a spread-eagle circle around Yuuri. “Show me.”

 

A wave of anxiety came crashing into him and he felt the heat he had created from his workout dissipate in an instant. “U-um,” he stuttered, tapping his pointer fingers together. They’d started choreography, but they didn’t actually have any choreography.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Yuri spat. “Assignments are next week and you’re telling me you don’t even have a complete program?” Slamming down his toe pick in the ice to stop himself he grabbed for Yuuri’s wrist. “Katsudon, listen to me. If you end up not being a worthy opponent this season because of Viktor, or worse – don’t qualify for the Grand Prix Final – then I will fucking kill you both. Got it?”

 

Normally, it was easy to brush off Yuri’s threats. Rarely could they be taken seriously and they were usually still so childish in nature, but this… This Yuuri felt in his core. The seriousness of the reality. Yuuri might not qualify for the GPF. The anxiety started to coil itself around his throat and he yanked his wrist free from Yuri to turn his back and push towards the barrier and Viktor. The noose that had been created yanked hard just before he could reach his husband. Yakov was talking to him -  _ at him _ \- in an angry voice. 

 

Carefully, Yuuri backed off. As much as he wanted to eavesdrop, he respected Viktor and Yakov’s relationship too much to do that. Viktor would tell him later if he wanted Yuuri to know.

 

With one eye on his husband, he worked leisurely on his short program’s step-sequence, the movements lacking any sort of real passion or structure. He waited for Viktor to call him over or give him a task once Yakov had left, but the man only remained hunched over the barrier with a glossy gaze. 

 

Yuuri sighed sadly. If previous incidents were any indicator, Viktor wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of whatever was going on in his head before the end of practice. Another day would pass without any work on his free skate. Only this time, as much as he tried to beat them down, Yuri’s words lingered in the back of his head, giving him more to worry about than just his husband. Could they afford to lose another day like this? What should he do? Yuuri didn’t know...

 

Viktor didn’t say much the rest of the practice and he and Yuuri parted ways from the rink in an almost awkward silence. While Viktor went on to his physical therapy, Yuuri started into a jog to try and clear his mind. It failed miserably, the haunting thoughts simply chasing him the entire way back to their apartment. The shower he took after he returned home was no better. Beneath the steaming water he had nowhere to run and he was trapped with the dark thoughts. 

 

With a towel around his neck he emerged from their room to find Viktor home preparing to cook dinner in the kitchen. Yuuri waited for a second, waiting to see if Viktor noticed him and spoke first. He didn’t, the man too lost in his own world. “Hey.” Yuuri approached Viktor from behind and stood up on his toes to kiss him on the cheek. “How was therapy?”

 

Viktor leaned into the kiss, putting Yuuri a bit more at ease. “The usual,” he commented. “I’ve gained about another five degrees in my range of motion. Still behind the curve, but it’s progress.”

 

Yuuri squeezed his bicep reassuringly. “Hey, any progress is great progress, right?”

 

Viktor only hummed. It was his way of pushing Yuuri off.

 

Frowning, Yuuri took the hint and started to walk away, wiping at his hair one more time with the towel before dropping it into the laundry. Grabbing his yoga mat, he unrolled it in the living room so that he could keep an eye on Viktor while he stretched. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea, but Yuuri was worried. Viktor still wasn’t opening up to him about this morning. The longer he stretched in silence the more the unwanted thoughts filled his mind. Every worst case scenario started to creep up on him and he wondered if he’d still have a coach or even a husband by the start of the season. It was stupid and irrational, he knew, but his anxiety didn’t care about being rational. 

 

“Yuuri…?”

 

Yuuri was finally startled from his thoughts and he tucked his legs beneath him out of the split. “Hm?”

 

“Am I holding you back?”

 

The boldness of the question was so shocking that Yuuri didn’t know how to respond for a moment. When it finally hit him, he found himself scrambling to his feet and to the kitchen. “What?! Vitya, no! Of course not! Who told you that? Yuri? Don’t listen to him.” Viktor forced a smile as he stirred the pot and Yuuri realized how familiar that look was. Like the one he had been giving Yakov earlier today. “Yakov. That’s what Yakov was talking to you about today.” His heart sank through to the bottom of his chest. “Oh, Vitya…”

 

“He’s right, you know?” The forced smile grew larger, like the one he had been giving the media all those years before Yuuri. “We’re so far behind. You should already be practicing both programs in full, but you can’t because I haven’t given you a free program yet.”

 

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, to tell Viktor that it was fine and that they’d work through it, but Viktor continued without giving him a break.

 

“We need to be talking about costume designs and getting in those commissions. Assignments are next week, and we’re so far behind. And it’s my fault, I know.” Viktor’s voice didn’t falter, but Yuuri could see the pain all over his face and every bit of it stabbed him in the chest. The stirring stopped and Viktor removed the wooden spoon setting it down on a plate. “I’m sorry… Could you finish dinner? My leg- I can’t stand anymore.”

 

Words jumbled together in Yuuri’s throat, fighting each other over what should be said. Nothing won, and he remained silent as he took over at the stove. Watching Viktor limp to the bedroom he felt tears sting at his eyes.  _ Why didn’t you say anything? Tell him it wasn’t true? _

 

But it was true, no matter how badly Yuuri wanted to think otherwise.  The time and energy they were putting into helping Viktor work around his injury was time not being applied to Yuuri’s program. He was dangerously behind and, worse, he and Viktor both knew it. Still, he was supposed to lie. He was supposed to tell Viktor what he needed to hear to feel better. 

 

Letting out a shaky sigh he reached up to turn off the stove, no longer hungry. Given Viktor’s reaction, he didn’t think the other man was either. Pulling out some containers, he stored the cooked vegetables for another day, knowing they would not be consumed tonight. Slow and silent tears fell down his cheeks as he cleaned up the kitchen and then made his way to the couch. The grandfather clock ticked on, an ominous metronome counting down the seconds of some impending doom. 

 

How could he make this better? What could he do? Viktor was right. He knew it, Yuuri knew it, Yuri knew it, and now even Yakov knew it. There was no hope of changing Viktor’s mind about that. What they needed to do was simply make it not true. But how?

  
_ Come on, Yuuri, stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. How can we fix this? _

 

Brown eyes caught a glimpse of his laptop on the armrest opposite him. Yuri had said they spent more time looking at videos than skating. Well, that was because for Viktor so many years and so many programs started to blend together and it only served to confuse Yuuri’s once perfect library of Viktor Nikiforov trivia. What if they could unjumble all those memories? That was it! Wiping away his tears, he stretched across the sofa to grab the laptop and headed swiftly down the hall. 

 

Even though it was technically his room too, Yuuri knocked politely against the half-open door before peeking his head in. “Vitya…?” When Viktor rolled over to acknowledge him he stepped in fully, laptop in hand as he carefully sat down on the mattress next to his husband. “I...I know things have been hard lately. We’ve had a hard time figuring out how to work through the challenges, but we have. We’ve put together a really solid short program that I’m proud of and can’t wait to perform.”

 

“But-”

 

Yuuri hushed him with a gentle touch to the forearm. “But you are right. We are behind, and we need to find a way to work through these challenges too. So I thought of an idea.” Yuuri opened the laptop on his thighs. “The problem is we are both a little forgetful these days and we spend more times trying to figure out which program to reference than skating. Why don’t we take a little time to refresh our memories?”

 

This time when Yuuri saw the tears in those blue eyes, they were from happiness. “I think that’s a perfect idea,  _ zolotse _ .”

 

Smiling, Yuuri curled up against Viktor and shifted the laptop between them for better viewing. Program after program. Hour after hour. Yuuri felt like a little boy rediscovering Viktor all over again.

 

/*/

 

Gradually, Yuuri started to come out of his sleep peacefully. With a full body stretch he uncurled himself, releasing a pleasant sigh. The sheets were cold against his sleep-warmed skin and there was no blaring alarm sound. If only every morning could be this way. Seconds later, Yuuri’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright reaching for his glasses. Slipping them on his nose he saw his laptop neatly placed on the nightstand. How late had they ended up staying up? Turning over his phone he cursed at the time. They’d missed morning practice. Why had Viktor let him sleep in? 

 

“Vitya!” Throwing off the covers he opened the door and headed for the living room where he could hear faint music. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Viktor dancing to his free program music.

 

Well, dancing was certainly not the right word. It was more like a series of intricate arm movements as he sort of hopped on one leg. Still, it was the most peaceful Yuuri had seen Viktor since his injury. With a smile, Yuuri leaned up against the wall silently, watching the scene unfold in front of him. In the back of his mind he could hear the doctor, the therapists, and Yakov all yelling at allowing Viktor to do so much… but Yuuri didn’t have the heart to stop him. 

 

Eventually, Viktor stopped himself, having finally become aware of Yuuri’s presence. He stumbled, startled, and fell down right onto the sofa.

 

Yuuri gasped, running to him, afraid that he was hurt. When he looked down, Viktor was grinning from ear to ear and pulled Yuuri down with him. “Vitya!” Yuuri yelped before chuckling, hyper aware of his husband’s knee. “You could have hurt yourself!”

 

“I’m already hurt,” Viktor argued, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist.

 

With a fond smile, Yuuri brushed at sweaty silver bangs. “What were you doing?”

 

“Choreographing your free skate,” Viktor responded. “I’ve finished it. Well, I think. It might need some fine-tuning once I actually see it out on the ice, but it’s a pretty good start.”

 

Matching Viktor’s smile, Yuuri bent down and kissed him. “I can’t wait to try it. Though you know we’ve missed morning practice.”

 

“I know. Yakov already called to yell at me for being a terrible coach.” Viktor pursed his lips in a pout. “But coaching doesn't always have to be on the ice, right? I still think this counts as practice.”

 

Yuuri let out a snort. “Except you were the one doing all the work.”

 

“You can make it up to me by making me breakfast.” Viktor winked. “I’ll count it.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri bent down and gave Viktor one final kiss before crawling off of him. “Do your physical therapy exercises and then ice your knee.”

 

“Is my student giving me orders!?” Viktor gasped.

 

Yuuri picked up the spatula and pointed it at Viktor. “No, but your husband is! I don’t want you complaining about how you overworked yourself when we have to go to the rink this afternoon.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Viktor whined. “My Yuuri is so mean to me.”

 

Yuuri smiled as once more the anxiety and fear was closed behind a door. 

 

/*/

 

“You missed practice this morning,” Yuri said casually, eyeing Yuuri as they both worked on lacing up their skates.

 

Yuuri smiled knowingly. “Yup.”

 

Yuri’s green eyes narrowed skeptically. “Why?”

 

Finishing tying the bow and pulling his socks down over the boot Yuuri smiled wider. “We were finishing up my free skate. Since Viktor can’t skate, we just decided to work on it off ice.” The look of surprise from the Russian was satisfying, to say the least. “Hurry up and maybe you can see it!”

 

“We’ll run through it without the music first, to make sure it flows the way I envisioned it,” Viktor instructed as he took Yuuri’s skate guards. 

 

“Mm,” Yuuri acknowledged before stepping out on the ice to start his warm-up moves and figures. It was hard not to notice the way Yuri continued to stare at him the entire time. Smiling, Yuuri moved into a backwards spiral pattern, stretching to his fullest towards a standing split on the last one reaching down for his ankle. He just missed colliding with Yuri on his way back up, which he was sure was intentional. “Everything okay, Yurio?”

 

“Fine,” Yuri responded curtly. “You seem happy.”

 

“Because I am,” Yuuri responded. “Is that okay with you?” He winked, only serving to anger the blonde. “You should try it sometime. Being happy.”

 

“Who says I’m not happy?” Yuri retorted. “I’m gonna be plenty happy when I wipe the ice with you at every competition. There can only be one Yuri on the ice, after all.”

 

Yuuri smirked and skated past Yuri, brushing shoulders with him purposely. “You’re right. Me.”

 

Not waiting around for Yuri’s response he moved to the center of the ice and into the starting pose for his free skate. The first runthrough was rough, but that was expected. He forgot the choreography in one spot and another didn’t flow right from Viktor’s head to the ice.

 

“Play the music,” Yuuri suggested. “Let me see if I can come up with something to replace that sequence. I need to do it in the moment though. Feel the music.” Viktor pulled out his phone at the stereo system, pulling up the music and plugging in. Yuuri got into position and started the moment the music filled the rink. He followed the choreo up until the questionable point. 

 

_ Hmm...what can I do here?  _ He landed out of the triple toe-loop, giving himself pause to feel the music for just a second.  _ Double three-turn, down into a lunge maybe? Nice back-bend...up into a nice extended inside three-turn oh! Slide stop with this musical pause. Nice, Yuuri. Backward crossover, two twizzles? No, three is better. Now, power three, straight into my camel spin. This part of the music is a little more bouncy, though. What about an illusion? Two rotations there, now into my back-spin. Okay, now onto Viktor’s original choreography. Hm. I wonder if he liked that?  _ Yuuri tried not to think about it, focusing on finishing the routine. He downgraded his salchow from a quad to a triple and touched on his flip, but otherwise finished what he thought was a fairly solid routine.

 

Viktor was clapping excitedly next to the stereo. “Yuuri! I loved your changes! Let’s keep them! But what was with changing the jumps? Are you out of shape?”

 

“W-what?! No!” Yuuri shook his head. “I just - um,”

 

“I’m kidding,  _ solnyshko _ . It’s fine. You were focused on the choreography,” Viktor chuckled. “Let’s practice just the jumps though, da?”   
  
They worked on his quads and combinations, Yuuri falling several times before he eventually landed the salchow. At least his triple axel was perfectly consistent as always so he had that. It was frustrating, but for once Yuuri didn’t let it get to him as much. He was tired, after all, having stayed up so late with Viktor. Good things had come from this practice even through the falls and under rotations. 

 

“We’ll need to have a practice this week to just focus on the jumps,” Viktor mentioned as he handed Yuuri his guards. “I don’t want those to suffer as we work through perfecting your choreography.”

 

Yuuri grabbed for the towel and wiped at the sweat on his brow. “Okay. I’ll work on them off ice in the studio too.”

 

“Are you going there while I’m at therapy?” Viktor asked as they started to walk back to the locker rooms.

 

“Mm, I think so. I want to practice the routine to really get the flow of it,” Yuuri said. 

 

“Good idea. I’ll make dinner tonight since I was supposed to last night. Have a good practice.” Viktor leaned down and gave him a kiss before they parted. 

 

Yuuri wiped down and packed his skates and left the rink feeling light and happy. Just ahead of him at the bottom of the stairs he spotted Yuri. “Yurio!” Yuuri called, hurrying down the steps to catch up to the other man. “I was going to go practice in the studio. Did you want to join me?”

 

“I’m tired,” Yuri mumbled with his hands in his pockets. “Some of us practiced twice today.”

 

Yuuri laughed, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Ah, yeah. Okay. Well, then, see you?”

 

“Wait,” Yuri sighed. “I’ll go.”

 

The smile on Yuuri’s face was telling enough as they walked side-by-side to Lilia’s. “Your programs are looking good. Are you excited?”

 

Yuri shrugged. “As much as I am for any other season, I guess. I’ve got my first fitting for my short program costume tomorrow.”

 

“Eh? Already?” Yuuri blinked in surprise.

 

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t behind, remember, piggy?” Yuri jabbed playfully.

 

Yuuri hummed. He might have to go more on the simple side this year for his costumes if he was going to get them back in time. Everyone at the rink pretty much used the same designer which meant she got backed up quickly. Or maybe he could just raid Viktor’s closet again. It would be much easier just to get one of those altered. It also wasn’t unusual for skaters not to have their costumes until the second or third competition. He’d have to make an appointment as soon as possible. 

 

Both men changed into a pair of leggings and their slippers when they arrived, moving into their stretches. Sometimes Yuuri was jealous of Yuri’s flexibility. Sure, Yuuri was plenty flexible, but Yuri was ungodly so even through his growth spurt.

 

After stretching out on the barre and working through a few moves, Yuuri plugged his phone into the stereo and put on his free program music. The more he got comfortable with the routine the more he could work on the elements like his jumps without worrying about forgetting something. Half-way through he found himself closing his eyes and just really feeling the melody. 

 

“It’s beautiful,” Yuri whispered as the music ended, almost soft enough Yuuri didn’t catch it. “Maybe the best I’ve seen you do. But not as good as mine.”

 

Yuuri huffed in amusement through his heavy pants, wearing his beaming heart on his sleeve. “Of course not. Thanks, Yurio. It means a lot to me that you’d say that.”

 

“You should choreograph your own programs, you know,” Yuri suggested, working through his positions on the barre still. “You’re capable. The change you made to Viktor’s program was beautiful. Why don’t you have more confidence in yourself?”

 

Yuuri opened his mouth to answer, but he realized that he didn’t have an answer. Why didn’t he, after all these years? Viktor had given him the confidence to do everything else, but why not this? “I don’t know, to be honest. Celestino just always did everything for me. It wasn’t until Viktor that I even started to choose my own music. I guess…. Maybe choreography is my next step. I’ll try it with an exhibition.”

 

“Next year, I expect you to choreograph your own competition performances,” Yuri demanded. “Unless you are just going to reuse old programs. Olympic year and all that.”

 

It was true that a lot of skaters tended to recycle programs for the Olympic season. Would Yuuri follow that? “I think, maybe Yuri on Ice would be the only program I could see myself skating again. Do you think you’d recycle something?”

 

“Hmm, I thought about Agape,” Yuri mentioned, moving off the barre into a plie and then a saute. “But I don’t know. That’s still a season away. I’d have to commission a new costume.”

 

That was certainly true. There was no way Yuri would fit into Viktor’s old costume anymore. For a moment, Yuuri thought about what sort of changes Yuri might make into a reimagining of Agape. “Nothing would make me happier than to compete against you in the Olympics, Yurio.”

 

The last Olympics… That had been the year following Sochi. The one where he had come in 10th at Nationals and failed to make the team. Now, though, he had his performance anxiety under control. He had Viktor. 

 

This time he’d represent his country for sure.

 

/*/

 

“Viktor, are you watching me at all?!” Yuuri huffed, feeling frustrated as Viktor’s face was deep down in the screen of his phone.

 

There was a small pause and then Viktor looked up with a smile, turning the screen towards Yuuri. “Assignments are up.”

 

“Ah! Let me see!” Yuuri grabbed for the phone and started to scroll through the article. It was in Russian and instead of actually reading he just did a quick search for his name among the Cyrillic. “France and the US. Ah! Phichit will be at Skate America! Eh? Yuri and I aren’t in any of the same competitions.”

 

“No,” Viktor agreed, taking back his phone and further distraction. “You’ll have to both qualify for the final to see each other. Though, Yakov and I have already discussed sending you to the same preliminary competition in September. We’re thinking Italy. Something a little more low-key.”

 

Low-key. Yuuri could laugh at that. The only low-key competitions for Yuuri were ones that didn’t involve judges or spectators. “Mm, okay. I’ve only been to France once before and I had no time to see the city due to a flight delay. You’ll show me the best places, right?!”

 

“Of course!” Viktor beamed. “We’ll stay for a few days after. We definitely have to take a ride up the cable-car to the summit of Bastille.”

 

Maybe a mini-vacation was exactly what they’d need given everything they’d been through. Viktor was getting stronger every day, even if it was at a slower pace than normal. He could walk without his crutches now and the hobbles and limping were less and less. This was good. All of it was good. 

 

With determination, Yuuri pumped his fist. “Okay! Let’s get to work!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Yuuri slipped under the covers Viktor was fast asleep. Turning out the lamp, Yuuri rolled away from Viktor and finally let himself cry. The tears were silent. They were out of frustration. Anger. Hurt. Viktor was in pain and he wasn’t talking about it. He wasn’t opening up to Yuuri despite their promise. He had to address it. Not now, but after the competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!! I'm sorry it took so long, but I did promise that I would be back and I am! Thank you for all of you who have hung in there and are still around! <3

September came upon them quickly and with it, their first competition of the season. Both Yakov and Viktor agreed that placing Yuri and Yuuri against each other in one of the ISU’s Challenger Series events would be beneficial since neither would meet again until the GPF. Yuuri’s free skate costume hadn’t been completed in time, but that was an easy work around after raiding Viktor’s closet. What was important was that his programs were ready and Yuuri felt good.

 

The Lombardia Trophy was held in Sesto San Giovanni, Italy, a comune in the city of Milan. Yuuri had only been to Italy once before and it was a long time ago as a Junior. This time promised to be a very different experience. While they were staying at the ISU sanctioned hotel, Viktor spared no expense for a suite with an incredible view, just like he’d spared no expense on their first class tickets on the flight. Granted, Yuuri had a feeling that had more to do with Viktor’s knee than anything. Even though Viktor had always been used to going first class in his day, Yuuri liked to be more careful with their money and had always insisted on coach.

 

They slept off the jet lag and then went out for a meal, just the two of them. The only other competitors besides Yuri that Yuuri really knew were the Crispino twins and he wasn’t exactly trying to hang out with them. Even though Yuuri was happily married, Michele could still find a way to accuse him of going after Sara, even if he had gotten much better through the years.  It was just too much trouble before a competition.

 

He couldn’t find it in him to regret not inviting Yakov or Yuri either. Viktor was in fine spirits, happily regaling Yuuri with stories of previous trips to Italy and the food he’d eaten. It was fun, and Viktor seemed to genuinely be enjoying himself. So it was with a continued good mood that Yuuri reported to the rink the next day.

 

“How are you feeling?” Viktor asked after Yuuri had gone through his short program.

 

Yuuri took a sip of water and wiped at his face with the towel. “Good. It’s so low-key… Not a lot of people. It helps.”

 

“You look good. Nothing to be nervous about,” Viktor assured him. “One more run through, but no jumps this time.”

 

Nodding, Yuuri took one last sip and skated to his starting point.

 

Closing his eyes he let the music play in his head as he moved through his program. While he felt good through every turn and spin, he couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye how Yuri was jumping like a powerhouse. The teen had finally learned how to control his new body and it was frightening.  _ Don’t think about it. You can be frightening, too.  _ It was a good thing he wasn’t jumping, because the further along he got the more distracted he became. The way his spins travelled uncharacteristically was telling of that, and Viktor saw right through it.

 

“Yuuri,” he frowned as Yuuri came to collect his guards. “You were fine two minutes ago. What’s wrong?”

 

With a heavy sigh Yuuri stepped off the ice and took a tissue from the Makkachin holder Viktor still carried around fondly. “Yurio looks good.”

 

“He does,” Viktor agreed calmly, “but he’s also getting cocky. Yurio being cocky is like you being anxious. Same end result. Both are equally as destructive.”

 

Except Yuri usually backed up his cockiness. Yuuri didn’t voice that opinion out loud however. God, why was he like this? Even at an event as low-key as this, he had to to start talking himself down and creating problems where there were none. 

 

“Yu-uri,” Viktor’s frown deepened the worse Yuuri fell. 

 

He couldn’t be like this. He had to be strong for both of them. “Kiss it better?” he asked with a small smile, a reference to the time Viktor had offered to do so during his mental breakdown in China.

 

Viktor returned the smile, but turned away. “You know I only kiss gold, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri leaned up and pecked him on the cheek anyway. “I can always get gold lipstick.”

 

With an amused scoff Viktor turned his head and captured Yuuri’s lips in a quick kiss. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

 

“Get a room,” Yuri growled as he purposely stomped right between them. 

 

“We have one, thanks!” Viktor proudly shouted at him.

 

Yuri flipped him off which immediately earned him a tongue-lashing from Lilia and an actual physical beating on the shoulder.

 

“Room service and a nice bath to relax before bed?” Viktor suggested as Yuuri took a seat on the bench to unlace his boots.

 

Yuuri smiled and nodded. It may have taken a year of getting to know each other, but now Viktor knew exactly how to make Yuuri feel his best before a competition.

 

/*/

 

It was strange how relaxed Yuuri felt the next morning. Strange in a bad way. It wasn’t a calm relaxed, but an aloof relaxed, like nothing even mattered.

 

_ Ah, I haven’t hit this bad in a while, _ Yuuri thought. Now more than ever Viktor’s reputation was on the line, and that made Yuuri panic more than anything else.

 

Both Yuri and Yuuri were in the last group, though thankfully Yuuri had drawn the third position and Yuri the first. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once. Whenever he tried to watch the television to see the other competitors he found his eyes wandering after less than a minute of the performance. For some reason, he just couldn’t focus, where usually he was overly focused. 

 

Viktor for the most part kept his eyes glued on the screen, always curious about fellow competitors. Yuuri noticed, though, that he seemed annoyed.

 

“What’s wrong?” he eventually asked, hoping he could occupy himself with his husband if nothing else.

 

“I’ve never seen so many scores in the 40s and 50s. I thought this was a Senior event, no?” Viktor huffed. “Mila could be out here destroying half the competition!”

 

Yuuri winced. His first season in Seniors was similarly horrible. Viktor, however, had never scored lower than 80. He also had no doubt that Mila would wipe the floor with the majority of the men in this competition. Even now at 20, she was a force to be reckoned with. 

 

“If we don’t both break 100, I’m going to punch you and then myself,” Yuri mumbled from behind them, equally as irritated as Viktor it seemed by the lack of competition.

 

Although he smiled, inside, Yuuri was screaming a little. While it was true he’d broken 100 before, he was trying not to set the bar so high the first time out with new programs. The higher he set his expectations the worst it felt when he inevitably didn’t meet them. 

 

When their group was finally called to warm-up, Yuuri still felt this emptiness. On the outside, he knew he looked fine; at least, he knew he didn’t look like he was having a mental breakdown. Which is why it shocked him when Viktor called him out on it.

 

“No quads during warm-up,” Viktor instructed.

 

“Huh?” Yuuri questioned, eyes wide in surprise.

 

Viktor held out his hand for Yuuri’s guards. “You didn’t do your normal stretch routine. You can’t sit still. Your mind is going a mile a minute.”

 

Yuuri looked down in embarrassment at having been caught. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong! I don’t feel nervous, I just don’t-”

 

“Feel anything?” Viktor questioned, voice soft. Like he’d been there too. “Yuuri. You trust me, don’t you?”

 

Yuuri nodded vehemently. “Of course I do!”

 

“Then trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about. You’re going to be amazing,” he promised.

 

Nibbling at his lip, Yuuri nodded, and their group was suddenly called to step out onto the ice for their six minute warm-up. Viktor may have known Yuuri inside and out, but he still didn’t get this. It wasn’t Yuuri that Yuuri was worried about. He’d lived through the humiliation and embarrassment for himself and survived. What he couldn’t survive was embarrassing Viktor. 

 

Despite only going for a triple salchow instead of the quad, Yuuri fell right out the gate anyway. 

 

“Katsudon, don’t you fucking dare,” Yuri hissed as he skated by, green eyes slicing right through him where he lay on the ice.

 

Yuuri used his words to light a fire in him and he got up and quickly got back to it. This time he landed it cleanly.  _ There you go, Yuuri; you’ve got this.  _ He kept his axel and flip-toe combo to doubles. At this point, he couldn’t afford a crash to his confidence. When the skaters were instructed to leave the ice, Yuuri’s eyes went straight to Viktor’s in an attempt to read his coach’s mood. 

 

Viktor’s nod was small but approving. “You got the fall out of the way now, but also proved you can do it. You’re fine.”

 

Letting out a large sigh of relief Yuuri moved off to the side in order to watch Yuri go, though he was mindful to continue to stretch and keep himself warm. Yuri’s hair was pulled back into several braids and he wore a maroon jumpsuit with gold stripes and plates of fabric that looked like armor. He looked like a soldier. The song was a slower pace than what Yuuri knew Yuri liked to skate to, but it had a heavy guitar solo that made it powerful and completely fitting for the Russian. 

 

Yuri’s first quad went beautifully clean. Yuuri couldn’t help but hold his breath as he watched Yuri’s every move. The step-sequence was towards the beginning with Yuri backloading with his triple axel and combination. Yuuri had personally worked with Yuri on improving it through the summer, and it was showing.    
  
There was a collective gasp as Yuri stumbled out of the quad loop and doubled the triple toe, catching an edge and just managing to hold on.   
  
Yuuri glanced at Viktor who seemed completely unsurprised by what he’d witnessed on the ice.  _ Viktor did say he was being cocky… Guess he was right.  _

 

Yuri recovered on the axel and ended strongly, but the anger was written all over his face. Yakov was all over him the instant he stepped off, and all Yuri could do was cross his arms as they headed to the kiss-and-cry knowing his coach was right with every word. 

 

Viktor let out a small laugh. “Some things never change.”

 

A smile found Yuuri’s face at that. It was true. While Yuri did not break 100, he still had pulled out 94.56. Yuuri remembered a time when he would have been ecstatic for that. Now, though, Viktor expected more. He expected better. The next skater was someone Yuuri had never heard of from Latvia. While they went clean, they had no quads in their program and could only manage a score in the low 70s.

 

With Yuuri up next, he shrugged out of his jacket to reveal a white top with streaks of dark blue, pink, and gold swirls. The dark blue collar was trimmed in gold lace that followed down the edge of the lapels to the waist. The same gold lace trimmed the sleeves and he wore dark blue gloves that matched his pants. Viktor pulled out his Chanel lip balm in tradition and applied it to Yuuri’s lips. 

 

Although the crowd was small, there were still loud cheers as his name was called and he found his starting position. The sound of rain started, followed by the soft sounds of the harp and into the oriental chimes of the song. His first jump was up quick, three three-turns right into a quad salchow, with a difficult entry he’d been practicing for weeks. 

 

Crap. He tripled. 

 

It was fine. He still landed cleanly and most skaters didn’t even have a single quad let alone two. Yuuri wasn’t feeling it though. It was like the music was far away and he couldn’t connect his body to it. His spins and steps were accurate, but there was nothing there. Okay, triple axel - his signature. Moving into his spread-eagle he rode his edge and went up into the jump.    
  
He landed on the ice with a hard thud. 

 

What little confidence he had was now completely gone and all he could think about was the end of the program. There was still a jump combination to go and he didn’t know how he was going to do it. On paper it was a 4F+3T but there was no way he was going to land the flip like this.  _ Change it. You have to.  _ Coming out of his camel spin his mind raced as he started the entry into his flip and, at the last second, changed his leg out of the three-turn and went up into a quad toe-loop. It was his best jump and he came down clean and went straight into the triple. Clear. 

 

There was a sigh of relief, but his combination spin travelled in his complacency and he knew he’d get marked for it. Getting called on spins was something Yuuri never did. Even though he knew his program would score better than the GPF-that-shall-not-be-named, Yuuri had never felt more miserable after a performance.

 

Viktor’s mouth was drawn into a tight smile as he handed Yuuri his guards. “Well, I expected worse if I’m honest.”

 

“What!?” Yuuri almost screamed.

 

With a comforting smile Viktor wrapped Yuuri’s jacket around his shoulders and brushed the back of his fingers against his cheek. “I could see it in your eyes. You weren’t here.”

 

Yuuri’s shoulders fell as he was guided to the Kiss-and-Cry. He should have known he couldn’t hide it from Viktor. While there were still things about each other they still didn’t know or were working out, Yuuri’s anxiety was something Viktor had made sure he had figured out quickly. 

 

“It’s okay,” Viktor assured him as they sat and waited. “If you’re going to have a bad day, today is the day for it. But, if something is wrong, I’d like for you to talk to me. We promised to talk to each other, didn’t we?”

 

Yuuri hugged the plush dog he had picked up from the ice. “I don’t know what’s wrong… Not really.”

 

_ “The score for Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov: 87.26. He is currently in second place.” _

 

Okay… Well, not terrible. His PCS was much lower than usual though. So, the judges had seen it, too. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

 

Viktor took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know you will.”

 

Yuuri was immediately pulled aside for an interview where he quickly explained that he was just nervous and promise that nothing was wrong and to give a better performance during the free program. 

 

“Someone must have poisoned us at the hotel,” Yuri suddenly said next to him.

 

Yuuri blinked. “Huh?”

 

“We both had room service last night,” Yuri pointed out. “It’s the only explanation for us both sucking out there. Michele Chrispino is ahead of you! How?!”

 

Yuuri checked the scores. Though it was only by two points, it was true. He sighed. “At least you can just tell people you are still learning to handle your body. I don’t have an excuse.”

 

“Stupid,” Yuri growled, frustrated with Yuuri’s answer and frustrated with himself. “What is wrong with you anyway? Usually if it’s your anxiety, you completely freak out. You seemed normal.”

 

“Yeah,” Yuuri simply agreed, having no real answer for him. 

 

After changing and heading back to the hotel, Yuuri and Viktor met with Yakov, Yuri, and Lilia at the hotel restaurant. Neither skater felt like making an appearance in public after their performances. Viktor, Yuuri noticed, hardly touched his food but was making quick work of the drinks that came to the table. Was he really that mad…?

 

“You two feed too much off of each other,” Yakov finally huffed, pointing an accusing finger first at Yuuri, then Yuuri himself. “When you thrive, you both thrive and break world records. But when you are in a slump, you are both  _ in a slump _ . Start thriving. Vitya might put up with such a terrible performance, but I certainly will not.”

 

“It wasn’t terrible, but it certainly could improve,” Viktor argued.

 

“Stop being a husband and be a coach,” Yakov growled back. “You aren’t doing him any favors!”

 

Yuuri felt himself grow red hot in embarrassment, knowing Yakov was right. Viktor wasn’t being a coach. He wasn’t scolding him for his mistakes and grinding into him on how to fix it. Even Celestino would have yelled at him for such a performance, but Viktor hadn’t at all. And maybe… Maybe that was worse.

 

“I’m going to go back up and get ready for bed,” Yuuri finally spoke.

 

“Okay,” Viktor smiled at him. “I’m going to stay down here for a bit longer.”

 

Yuuri nodded and Viktor gave him a kiss bathed in liquor. Yuri also quickly excused himself and scurried after Yuuri towards the elevators, though he didn’t say anything as they waited. Just as Yakov had said, they fed off of each other, and right now they were feeding off of disappointment.

 

“Hey,” Yuri called out to him as they split off at the elevator down different ends of the hall. “I still owe both of us a punch in the face. That is… unless we can redeem ourselves.”

 

Smiling, Yuuri nodded. “Ah, well, I don’t really want to get punched.”

 

“Then do better,” Yuri said simply before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away.

 

Somehow, that made Yuuri feel better, for whatever silly reason. Ever since that first year, Yuri had known how to push the right buttons.

 

Stripping down the moment he got into the room, he took a shower and stretched out sore muscles and a bruised hip. In the middle of his splits, his phone chimed with a text message. He moved just enough to pull it from the charger. 

 

_ Phichit: You okay? _

 

Yuuri paused, wondering what he meant, and then realized that enough time had passed that his dreadful showing was probably all over Instagram. Oh.    
  
_ Me: Yeah… Just a bad day, I guess. _

 

_ Phichit: I hear you… We all have them. How’s Viktor though? _

 

_ Me: Okay, I guess? I mean, he didn’t really say much… He knew I wasn’t really with it during warm-up, I think. _

_   
_ _ Phichit: So he hasn’t seen? _

 

_ Phichit: Wait, no, ignore that! Sorry! Don’t listen to me!! _

 

Yuuri’s face fell. Seen what? Usually Yuuri had a very strict no social media rule during competitions, but his fingers flew across the keyboard typing his name into the news bar. The headlines that came up weren’t really surprising.

 

**YURIS STRUGGLE IN SHORT IN ITALY**

 

**IS THE REIGN OF THE YURIS OVER?**

 

**REIGNING WORLD CHAMPION KATSUKI-NIKIFOROV BOMBS AT LOMBARDIA**

 

Jesus. The reporters couldn’t help but drag Yurio into it, too. Yuri was still in first place and Yuuri third, but it was like that didn’t mean anything at all. Anything other than perfect was the end of the world. He stopped scrolling when the headlines suddenly shifted.

 

**VIKTOR NIKIFOROV, FROM LEGEND TO OBSCURITY?**

 

What?! Yuuri quickly clicked on it and started reading.

 

_ “While Katsuki has often struggled with nerves on the ice during competitions, today’s performance felt like maybe there was a different culprit. Katsuki’s performance lacked its usual surprise and artistry that his programs have had since coming under Nikiforov as a coach. Nikiforov is known to have a very hands-on approach to his coaching style, primarily working side-by-side on the ice with students. With a career ending injury still on the mend, one has to wonder if perhaps these limitations have something to do Katsuki’s performance. Has Nikiforov lost his ability to coach in his injury as well?” _

 

A loud gasp left Yuuri’s lips and he almost dropped his phone. What?! They were blaming Viktor for his failure? No. No, no, no! They couldn’t! It wasn’t his fault! It was all Yuuri!

 

_ Me: How could they say this stuff?! It’s wrong! _

 

_ Phichit: Yeah, I know, it’s stupid. It’s like they are reaching for a story or something. Has Viktor seen the articles yet? _

 

_ Me: I don’t know… but he hasn’t come back from the hotel bar yet… I need to find him. _

 

_ Phichit: Let me know if you need anything. Kick ass tomorrow.  _

 

Throwing on his track jacket and shoes, he pocketed the key room and quickly made his way back downstairs. Sure enough, Viktor was alone at the bar, a drink still in his hand. Cautiously, Yuuri approached. Viktor’s cheeks were tinged pink and his bad leg was propped up on another stool. Half a year later and he was still so far behind in his recovery. It worried Yuuri.

 

“Vitya…?” Yuuri asked softly.

 

Viktor blinked in surprise. “Yuuri? What are you doing still up?”

 

Pulling out one of the bar stools, Yuuri took a seat. “I was worried about you. Vitya, it’s not true. It’s not true what they are saying!”

 

There was a pregnant pause, Viktor’s face void of any sort of emotion, until he put down his drink and smiled. “Yu-uri, you know you aren’t supposed to be looking at your phone during competitions. Coach’s rules. Do I need to take it from you?”

 

If it weren’t for Viktor’s knee, Yuuri would have kicked him for such a comment. “I’m serious! Some of the stuff those articles said-”

 

“Are no worse than things said when I was skating,” Viktor countered. “Now that I’m not on the ice they have to find something to complain about. It doesn’t bother me, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes fell on the half-empty glass. “Then why are you drinking so much?”

 

Casually, as if he wasn’t on his fourth, fifth, sixth? drink of the night, he nodded towards his propped up knee. “It was really bothering me aftering being on it all day.”

 

That was a far worse answer than Viktor just admitting the articles bothered him. “Vitya, the doctor warned you about drinking on your meds.”

 

“I didn’t take my meds,” Viktor pointed out. “I forgot them back home.”

 

Yuuri was two seconds from making a scene in the middle of the hotel bar. Forgot his medication? How could Viktor just forget his medication? Wait. Yuuri remembered Viktor taking a pill before their flight. He was lying. Yuuri’s lower lip trembled, but he didn’t shout or scream. He didn’t call Viktor out on his bullshit. Instead, Yuuri took the glass from Viktor’s hand and set it down gently. “Vitya. Please come to bed. We’ll put some ice on your knee and go through your stretches. It’ll feel better.”

 

Viktor didn’t argue, leaning into Yuuri in a show of surrender. “Okay. My Yuuri is so good to me.”

 

With a sigh of relief, Yuuri signed for Viktor’s tab to their room and helped Viktor to his feet. Yuuri supported a good portion of his weight as they slowly made their way to the elevator and then their room. Usually Viktor was the one to massage Yuuri’s feet and tend to any injuries after a competition day, but not today. Yuuri undressed him and got him comfortable on the bed, his husband too far gone to do anything else but lay there. They wouldn’t get through any of the exercises, but Yuuri placed ice wrapped in a towel on his knee for ten minutes anyway while he got ready for bed himself. 

 

When Yuuri slipped under the covers Viktor was fast asleep. Turning out the lamp, Yuuri rolled away from Viktor and finally let himself cry. The tears were silent. They were out of frustration. Anger. Hurt. Viktor was in pain and he wasn’t talking about it. He wasn’t opening up to Yuuri despite their promise. He had to address it. Not now, but after the competition. 

 

Yuuri didn’t sleep, and in a rare occurrence he was up long before Viktor. Despite being physically exhausted, something had sparked overnight in Yuuri mentally. A fire. He wasn’t going to let those journalists slander Viktor like that. It was one thing to come after him, but the second they went after his coach - his husband - he had to act. Yuuri was going to go out there and win gold. Then they would talk.

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri shook Viktor to wake him. “Come on. Let’s get to the rink. I’m ready.”

 

Viktor groaned as he came out of his sleep, eyes blinking open slowly. “Wow… You’re up before me? Really? Yuuri,” he pushed himself up onto his elbows with a frown. “Did you not sleep?”

 

Yuuri had already covered the dark rings with make-up, but his smile was genuine anyway. “I’m ready, Vitya. I’m going to go win.”

 

That seemed to be all Viktor needed to hear, as he quickly returned the determined smile. “Good. But first… water? My head hurts.”

 

“You shouldn’t have drank so much,” Yuuri grimaced, making his way to the bathroom to get him a glass of water. 

 

“You’re right,” Viktor agreed with his heart-shaped smile as he was handed the glass. “Should have saved it for when you win gold today!”

 

Yuuri smiled, but it was the most forced one he’d ever given.  _ Not now, Yuuri. Just wait.  _ “Hurry up and get ready. I want to grab a bite before we head to the rink.”

 

“Shower with me?” Viktor asked as he flung off the covers.

 

“I already showered,” Yuuri pointed out.

 

Viktor’s lower lip pursed out in a heavy pout.

 

Yuuri caved with a sigh. “Fine. Okay. But let’s be quick?”

 

They weren’t quick. Not seconds into the shower, Viktor’s hands started to wander and his lips trailed kisses across Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri wanted to chastise him for trying to start something, but he couldn’t help but fall into his touches. Any anger he held over the previous night was gone in his bliss the moment Viktor lathered his hand and reached between his thighs. Yuuri’s legs became instant jelly after his release, but Viktor was there to catch him. He was always there. Their mouths locked together in deep, heated kisses while Yuuri stroked Viktor to completion in return. 

 

“We’re going to be late now,” Yuuri huffed as Viktor turned off the water. “I should be mad at you.”

 

Viktor kissed him on the nose. “But you’re not.”

 

Yuuri stuck out his tongue. 

 

Grabbing breakfast to-go at a cafe next door, they managed to make it to the rink perfectly on time somehow. Since it was a smaller competition there were no days between programs for the men, only the ladies. Last year it had been the opposite, so Yuuri figured it was only fair. It was also an earlier start than Yuuri was used to, with the final group going on early afternoon. Yuuri felt ready, though, and it looked like Yuri had also had his own self-reflection sometime in the last 24 hours. 

 

Yuuri didn’t watch any of the other groups, instead putting in his headphones and putting his focus on his stretches and warm-up exercises. Today his mind didn’t wander and he didn’t feel empty. He felt full. Full of desire and determination. Viktor watched silently by the wall with a smirk on his face. He felt it too. 

 

Warm-up only served to boost his confidence. Every quad landed smoothly from the toe-loop to the flip. His spins were centered and fast and he even played a little with arm position in his combination. With two skaters ahead of him, Yuuri retreated back into the warm-up area and ignored the TV. It wasn’t that he was worried about them - he was still eight points above the next person - but he didn’t want to lose his focus.

 

“Yuuri.” Viktor tapped him on the shoulder.

 

Yuuri nodded, knowing it was time. They walked together to the ice, the previous skater going into his final spin. Yuuri unzipped his jacket to reveal the simple blue shirt he’d raided from Viktor’s closet. It had some light blue and white crystals around the neckline but wasn’t anything extravagant. For now, it would do, but Yuuri knew his final costume would be mind blowing. As the crowd applauded, Yuuri stepped onto the ice and turned around at the barrier. Both men leaned in and their foreheads rested against one another. 

 

“Will I get my kiss today, Yuuri?” Viktor asked.

 

“You’ve already had a hundred,” Yuuri pointed out with a smirk. 

 

“But I haven’t kissed gold,” Viktor corrected. 

 

Reaching up, Yuuri poked at the spot on top of Viktor’s head. “You will soon.”

 

_ “Representing Japan, please welcome to the ice, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.” _

 

In position, Yuuri closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. His body was still until the piano started to play and then he was free. Although by two completely different artists, his short and free program music complemented each other. While the music was much slower than his free, it allowed all his artistry to come out in full.

 

Preparing for his first jump, he breathed.

 

Perfectly executed 4S+3T. 

 

As the music started to pick up just slightly, he felt his feet move quicker and his heart pounded faster. The step-sequence was hard, easily a level 4, but he flew through it. Every jump and spin was clean. Before he even realized it four minutes had passed and he was flying into his last spin. He didn’t even feel tired. 

 

It felt like eternity that all Yuuri could hear was his own labored breathing, but everyone in the stands was standing and clapping. Like a slow crescendo, the noise finally hit and he realized he had gone completely clean. Viktor was jumping up and down on his good leg and extending his arms, eager for Yuuri to join him. Giving the judges and audience a quick bow, he scurried over to the barrier and jumped into Viktor’s arms.

 

“I did good, right!?” he asked.

 

“AMAZING!” Viktor beamed. “Wow! Yuuri! That could be a new high score for you!” Viktor’s eyes were sparkling in delight.

 

“Ah, you think?” Yuuri questioned, slipping on his guards. “I don’t know. It felt good but not as good as Barcelona.”

 

Viktor wrapped an arm around him as they moved to the Kiss-and-Cry. “Close, then. It has to be.” He took a moment to blow the camera a kiss as it zoomed in.

 

Michele stepped onto the ice for his warm-up while they waited for the scores. It was silent between them, but a good silence. There had been little improvement needed, but Yuuri was still thinking about how maybe he could chase a higher technical score in the future. 

 

_ “The score for Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov’s free skate is 219.28 for a total score of 306.64. He is currently in first place.” _

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but clap for himself at that, smiling and giving the camera a heart. He’d done it. While it was still possible Yuri could beat him, Yuuri just had this feeling.

 

Michele struggled following Yuuri’s flawless program earning a score of 188.53 and putting him well below Yuuri in the final rankings, though he would still end up getting third.

 

The last to go, Yuri’s hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and he shed his jacket to reveal a mostly black outfit with red accents. The shirt had flowing sleeves and red crystals around his neck that came down to the waist in a V pattern. The same red crystals adorned the cuffs around his wrists. It was a dark flame that perfectly fit him and the music. Yuuri knew how hard Yuri had fought against Lilia and Yakov to be able to choose his own music. To express his true self out on the ice.

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile as Yuri changed the first combination out the gate.  _ Ah, he’s trying to catch me. He’s angry, I can see it. Yurio has always been driven by spite, hasn’t he? _

 

Despite touching down a hand out of his lutz, Yuri’s technical score would likely blow Yuuri’s out of the water. Where the teen was struggling was in putting on a face that wasn’t a complete scowl. The second he stepped off the ice, Lilia rode into him about it and Yuuri couldn’t help but giggle. He expected Viktor to find it funny too, but when he looked his husband’s eyes were still out on the ice with a finger to his lips in thought.

 

“Vitya?” Yuuri questioned, though he was interrupted by the announcer.

 

_ “The score for Yuri Plisetsky’s free skate is 210.89 for a total score of 305.45. He is in second place.” _

 

Yuuri found himself bouncing just slightly at the announcement. “I won! Vitya!” But Viktor’s expression hadn’t changed, just where he was looking, and it was at the breakdown of Yuri’s score. “Vitya, what’s wrong?”

 

“His technical score was ten points higher than yours and would have been higher if it weren’t for the touchdown,” Viktor mused. “His component score is the only reason you did win, and Lilia will fix that before the next competition. We need to up the base value of the program.”

 

A balloon popped somewhere, and Yuuri quickly deflated. It somehow didn’t matter that despite being seven points behind going into the free, he still managed to win. Nor did it matter that he had skated clean. “Can’t you just be happy that I won?”

 

At that, Viktor finally pulled his eyes away from the screen. “What? Of course I’m happy! I get to kiss gold tonight as promised!”

 

Yuuri let Viktor pull him into a hug, but he didn’t return it, arms limp at his side. He found himself seeking out a private corner away from everyone while the podium was rolled out onto the ice and they prepared for the medal ceremony.  _ Don’t cry, dammit. It’s not that big of a deal. He’s just being a coach and trying to make sure you win the next competition.  _

 

With the cameras and all eyes on him, he smiled through the hurt as he was handed a small bouquet of flowers and the medal was draped over his neck. Yuri was to his right and Michele to his left. Yuri shared a similar expression, though for different reasons than Yuuri, he expected.

 

“Oi, Katsudon. Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Yuri whispered as the announcer went on about their scores and amazing performances.

 

Yuuri tightened his grip on the bouquet. “Vitya wasn’t happy with my performance.”

 

Yuri ignored the cameras and lowered his bouquet in anger. “What? Are you kidding? It was perfect!”

 

“He was comparing it to yours. He’s worried about my technical scores,” Yuuri explained, trying to keep his voice low.

 

The scoff Yuri let out was almost a growl. “Stupid old man. Everyone starts out slow and ramps up as the season goes on. Plus, you almost always outscore me on component. Want me to kick his ass? I won’t hold back just because he’s broke.”

 

Yuuri could only shrug as he tried to keep it together. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. There were still interviews and photos. Thankfully, because of the small scale of the event, there were very few members of the media present. Unfortunately, the one question he wanted to avoid was - well - unavoidable.

 

“Yuuri, how do you feel about the statements that Viktor’s inability to coach is to blame for your performance during the short?” the one woman asked.

 

Slowly, Yuuri clasped his hands behind his back in a manner to control his emotion. “I feel like they are ridiculous. I believe that my performance out there today is proof enough that there is nothing wrong with myself as a skater or Viktor as a coach and that our relationship - both professionally and personally - is stronger than ever.”  _ Except he’s lying to you and now you are lying to the world by saying everything is okay.  _ “I want to thank everyone for their support and please, look forward to my upcoming performances.”

 

Yuuri barely turned away from the reporters before Viktor was pecking him on the lips in front of all the cameras. “My Yuuri won gold!”

 

With a slightly annoyed but amused huff, Yuuri blushed. Maybe this was his way of apologizing for being kind of a jerk earlier. “Vitya, please.”

 

Viktor smiled, bringing the medal to his lips and kissing that too. “It won’t be your mother’s katsudon, but we’ll find somewhere nice to go tonight. We can even have dessert.”

 

Playfully snatching his medal back, Yuuri nodded. “Okay. Let me go change and I’ll meet you by the warm-up area.” Viktor kissed him again and let Yuuri walk away without another word. The second he stepped into the locker room he felt all the exhaustion of the last two days slam into him. Not just physically. 

 

“Congrats on your win,” Michele mumbled.

 

Yuuri smiled at him, but he couldn’t find the energy to strike up a conversation.

 

Yuri came up and nudged him shoulder-to-shoulder. “You sure you’re okay? I meant it when I said I’d kick his ass.”

 

“No, because I’d still have to take care of him after,” Yuuri said. “But thank you. Really. It means a lot that you’d say that.”

 

Yuri took a step away and then paused. “Um. Good job out there today. You looked really good.”

 

This smile was genuine. “ _ Spasibo _ , Yurio.”

 

Yuuri waited until he and Viktor got back to the hotel before showering. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked to the sink and started digging around the toiletries bag for his toothbrush having put it away before the room service came. He immediately stilled when he saw a medicine bottle. It hadn’t been there this morning. Pulling it out he looked at the label and, sure enough, it was Viktor’s prescribed painkillers. A tear fell onto his hand.

 

“Yuuri! Hurry! We’re going out with Yurio to celebrate!” Vikor called from the bedroom.

 

With a shaky breath Yuuri buried the bottle of meds back into Viktor’s toiletry bag, wiped at his eyes, and walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loud sob echoed through the empty rink as he sunk down to the ice, back against the wall. It was an absolutely ugly cry as he pulled his knees into his chest and let it all out. Viktor had turned his back. He had walked away. He refused Yuuri’s help. More than that, Yuuri had said the wrong thing at every point in the conversation. Why did he say those things? Why couldn’t he just get anything right? He was holding Viktor back and he knew it. This was all his fault and Viktor was starting to hate him for it. Yuuri had never felt anything this painful in his life. Even Vicchan’s death at the Grand Prix Final hadn’t hurt this badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! We're finally getting into the real juicy stuff and updates are coming fairly easy for me! So hopefully we can be on a somewhat 'regular' schedule...as regular as I can ever make fanfic updates xD As always, thanks to my amazing Beta Losha/Kage for helping me!

Yuuri’s gold medal sat untouched in his lap, occasionally sparkling as it caught the light from the airplane’s window when they emerged from a cloud. Winning had been almost easy for him in France even with tripling a quad in each of his programs, just like he and Yuri had easily swiped the competition in Italy despite so many errors. He hadn’t fallen or put down a hand, though, and that had been huge for him. What hadn’t been easy for him was dealing with Viktor’s heavy absence throughout the competition.

 

Sure, Viktor had been present at every official practice and the competition itself, but anytime outside of that he was gone. Chris had come to the competition to see Viktor and Yuuri and cheer them on, and Yuuri had been excited to see him. At first. The one dinner Yuuri had excitedly agreed to had turned into Chris and Viktor conversing almost entirely in French. While Chris had started off eagerly conversing and flirting with Yuuri at the start, he started to ignore Yuuri just as much as Viktor as the night went on and more drinks were consumed. Yuuri was convinced they had been laughing about him. It was stupid to think that - Chris was his friend and Viktor his husband - but Yuuri’s anxiety didn’t care. Viktor had promised to show Yuuri France, take him on a ride up the cable-car to see Bastille. None of that happened. 

 

Viktor reached out for his hand and Yuuri found himself recoiling, his hand retracting back into his lap and away from his husband. He didn’t need to look at Viktor to know the hurt expression all over his face, but he looked anyway and cringed. “Sorry…”

 

“What’s wrong?” Viktor questioned, keeping his voice low. “You won gold, but you don’t seem happy about it at all.”

 

“Are you happy?” Yuuri fired back. 

 

Taken aback, Viktor blinked in surprise. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” 

 

With an exhausted sigh, Yuuri sunk deeper into the airplane seat shoving his medal back into his bag. “Because just like in Italy all you could do after the performance was comment on my mistakes. I know my performances weren’t perfect, but there were a lot of things that were good about them, you know? And you didn’t even celebrate with me. You went out with Chris instead.”

 

“Yuuri, we invited you out and you said you were too tired,” Viktor pointed out, eyes narrow and brows drawn together. “But I’m sorry that you thought I wasn’t proud of you. Of course I was. I just wanted to make sure you knew there was still room for improvement.”

  
Oh, Yuuri knew. Of course he knew. It was shoved in his face in every news article and Instagram post. And, apparently, it wasn’t just his skating that needed improvement. “So none of the rumors bother you at all?”

 

Viktor blew out an annoyed puff of air. “You aren’t supposed to be looking at things during competitions.”

 

“It wasn’t about me, it was about you!” Yuuri snapped. “Saying our marriage is in trouble because you’re dating Chris behind my back!”

 

Viktor was so taken aback that he hit his head against the window and had to give it a shake. “W-what? Who the hell is saying that?”

 

“It’s all over the internet!  _ Trouble in Paradise _ , so they say!” Yuuri had screenshot one of the articles and saved it. He pulled it up for Viktor to see.

 

The other man barely glanced at it before staring hard at Yuuri. “I am your husband. I love you more than anything and Chris is happily engaged and your friend. There is absolutely nothing going on between us other than friendship.”

 

He knew that. Of course he knew that and he was an idiot for even giving in to his thoughts even for a second. The sting of tears pulled him back to his senses and he put a hand to his temple as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. I know that, Vitya. I know all of that and I don’t know why-”

 

This time Viktor made sure to grab Yuuri’s hand forcefully enough that Yuuri couldn’t pull back. “You’re tired and you let your anxiety get to you. It’s okay, Yuuri. I understand. This season… It’s been hard already and it’s only going to get harder with everyone talking about us at every turn. The world wants us to fail, but we’ll prove them wrong. Together.”

 

With a small sniffle Yuuri let his cheek fall against Viktor’s shoulder and cuddled against his side as much as the seat would allow. “I know Skate America is in a few weeks, but can we just take a few days? Just the two of us?”

 

Viktor let his head fall against Yuuri’s. “Of course we can, _ zolotse _ . I think it would do us both some good.”

 

Letting out a sigh of relief Yuuri let his eyes close to try and get some sleep. Viktor was here, with him, and they were fine. No matter how badly his anxiety wanted him read into everything, the articles were lies and he and Viktor were fine. They were fine. 

 

Their first day off they spent almost entirely in bed either sleeping or making love. The taste of Viktor on his lips and their bodies entwined made Yuuri forget all his fears. The second day they spent cleaning up the apartment and simply enjoying each other’s company. It was an all day affair despite being only a 2-bedroom dwelling. Yuuri and Viktor ended up getting far too occupied in each other to clean. The third day they went out to eat and properly celebrated Yuuri’s gold. It rejuvenated Yuuri in body, mind, and soul. On the fourth day, they returned to the rink.

 

The mini-vacation they had seemed to be worth it as Yuuri excelled during practice. Yuuri felt relaxed and more at peace than he had during competition season than he had in ages. Despite having an incredible first day back on the ice, though, Yuuri found he couldn’t sleep a wink that night. He had too much anxious energy and his mind wouldn’t settle no matter how many of his breathing exercises he cycled through. Tired of tossing and turning Yuuri finally just opened his eyes with an annoyed huff. Must be nice that Viktor was sleeping like the dead - wait, the other side of the bed was empty. 

 

Turning towards the nightstand, he reached around for his glasses. Slipping them on he looked at the bed again to make sure he hadn’t been imagining it. Viktor was indeed gone.  _ He’s out again. Why?  _ Checking his phone for a message from Viktor, he disappointingly found nothing. What little hope he had of finding him in the living room was quickly squashed as he entered to silence and darkness. 

 

Sighing, Yuuri did the only thing he knew to do. He grabbed his skating bag and slipped on his shoes. When he reached up for his Team Japan jacket he paused. He grabbed Viktor’s jacket instead and shoved his own into his bag before leaving. It was stupid to run in the middle of the night by himself on the streets, especially with how distracted he was, but they lived close enough it didn’t matter. He’d just have to be back before the bridges went up. 

 

Yuuri forewent the locker rooms and just headed straight for the rink where he could put his skates on at a bench. His heart stopped when he heard the sounds of blades scraping over ice. Someone else was here.

 

Someone else was here? Who? And then he saw him. Skating over to the barrier, looking defeated, frustrated, and wrung-out was none other than Viktor. Yuuri dropped his bag and was running again.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Yuuri barked out as he approached his husband. “You shouldn’t be on the ice, Vitya! You haven’t been cleared for it!”

 

Viktor was sweating and breathing hard as he gripped the barrier.  He didn’t look happy to see Yuuri. Or rather, he was unhappy before he saw Yuuri, and the surprise of his appearance only gave a new focus for the emotions. “Nine months, Yuuri. It’s been nine  _ fucking  _ months!”

 

Yuuri flinched. Viktor never swore. 

 

“Nine months and what do I have to show for it?!” Viktor’s voice started to get louder with each word, the empty rink only amplifying it. “I can’t even do cross-strokes or power-pulls without excruciating pain! How can I ever hope to do anything on the ice ever again?”

 

“You just need more time, Vitya,” Yuuri tried to reassure him, voice small in comparison. 

 

Viktor laughed. It sent a shiver down Yuuri’s spine. “More time. It’s always more time. How much more time do we give it until we finally admit it can’t happen?”

 

“But it will happen!” Yuuri reached out for Viktor’s arm, but it was promptly pulled away. Defiance rose up within him and he stepped out onto the ice in his sneakers to grab at Viktor. “You’ve been working so hard! You’ve come a long way!”

 

Viktor yanked his arm free almost sending Yuuri tumbling on the ice. “I have barely made a dent in it! I’m 30 but feel 60, Yuuri!” His voice cracked with potential tears as he continued. “My knee hurts all the time no matter what I do! I am  _ always _ hurting, and the only thing that ever made me feel better when I was feeling down is the one thing I can no longer do!”

 

Yuuri didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted the tears. It hurt so bad to hear Viktor admit how much pain he was in. Of course Yuuri had noticed it, but he’d pretended not to so that he could stay in his perfect bubble. Yuuri had noticed the drinking with the medicine and ignored that too. “Vitya, please don’t give up. You just have to try harder -”

 

“What, you think I’m not trying?!” Viktor snapped, tears quickly forgotten and exchanged for anger.

  
Yuuri flinched for the millionth time in the last few minutes. “No, that’s not -”

 

“I am doing everything I can to balance my therapy with being your coach and your husband, all while getting eaten up by the media, and yet I need to try  _ harder _ ?”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Vitya!” Yuuri pleaded reaching out once more only to get rejected. Viktor headed for the door. “Wait, where are you going?”

 

Viktor stepped off the ice and grabbed his guards, not even bothering with slipping them on. “Drinking.” 

 

Yuuri scrambled to run after him but forgot he was on the ice and slipped hard onto his knees. As quickly as he could, he got back onto his feet with the help of the barrier. “It’s almost one a.m.!”

 

Viktor turned around but continued walking backwards as he shrugged. “And it’s Russia. Bars are open all the time.”

 

“Please don’t go drinking, Vitya! Please!” Yuuri begged, but Viktor ignored him and turned his back.

 

A loud sob echoed through the empty rink as he sunk down to the ice, back against the wall. It was an absolutely ugly cry as he pulled his knees into his chest and let it all out. Viktor had turned his back. He had walked away. He refused Yuuri’s help. More than that, Yuuri had said the wrong thing at every point in the conversation. Why did he say those things? Why couldn’t he just get anything right? He was holding Viktor back and he knew it. This was all his fault and Viktor was starting to hate him for it. Yuuri had never felt anything this painful in his life. Even Vicchan’s death at the Grand Prix Final hadn’t hurt this badly. 

 

At some point he laid down completely on the ice, face cradled in his arms covered by the large sleeves that belonged to Viktor’s jacket. He curled up tighter on himself as he breathed in Viktor’s scent, an act that only had him crying harder. He didn’t feel the cold starting to seep through his clothing or taste the salt on his tongue. All he could comprehend was the utter heartbreak. Eventually, he became too exhausted to keep crying. 

 

Dragging himself off the ice he somehow managed to pick up his bag where he had dropped it and set it on the bench. Rummaging around for his phone he pulled it out and saw zero notifications. Nothing. It was also now ten to two. All the bridges were about to be up and he wouldn’t be able to get home. If he had any more tears to cry he would have, but there was nothing anymore. Miserably, he pushed his bag aside and curled up on the bench to sleep. 

 

/*/

 

“What the actual _ fuck _ ?!”

 

Yuuri woke with a gasp shooting up into a sitting position only to fall off the bench. Bench? Why was he on the bench? Ice?! He was at the rink? Where were his glasses? Where-? He blinked rapidly and looked up to see a blurred figure that could be no one other than Yuri. “W-what- Achoo!” Yuuri let out a powerful sneeze and a strong shiver rippled through his body. Cold. He was so cold.

 

Powerful and warm hands were on him helping him to his feet. Yuuri leaned into it, desperate for heat. “You want to tell me why the fuck you were sleeping at the rink, Katsudon?! Holy shit, you could have gotten frostbite or worse! You might have worse! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

 

“What is going on here?”

 

Yuuri’s knees wobbled from standing and he let out another sneeze. Someone helped him to sit back down. Was it Yuri? Oh. Was that Yakov?

 

“I found this idiot here sleeping on the bench!  All night, I think! He’s freezing!”

 

Yuuri flinched as a hand was pressed to his cheek and then his forehead. It wasn’t soft like Viktor’s. Where was Viktor?

 

“Have you seen Vitya?” Yakov’s gruff voice questioned.

 

Yuuri shook his head, thinking the question was directed at him, but it was Yuri who answered. “No.”

 

“He needs to get out of these clothes and warm before he catches cold, assuming he hasn’t already,” Yakov instructed.

 

“He can wear my extra pair of clothes. Should I throw him in the shower you think?” Yuri suggested.

 

Yakov hummed in affirmation. “I think there are some blankets in a closet, too. I’ll find them and try and get a hold of his idiot husband.”

 

Yuri’s arms looped around Yuuri, helping him to his feet. “Fuck, you’re cold. Think you can walk?”

 

Yuuri’s teeth started to chatter, but he nodded and let Yuri’s hands on him guide the way. Everything was blurry as they moved and Yuuri didn’t even bother trying to pull his senses together. His arms remained wrapped around himself as he was sat down on a bench and Yuri started to undress him. Strange. Yuri had always been uncomfortable around naked people and being naked in front of others. He hardly ever went into the locker rooms and had to be forcefully dragged into the onsen by him and Viktor. 

 

“Yurio, don’t have to -” Yuuri’s mumbled sentence was cut short as Yuri pulled him to his feet again.

 

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m gonna,” Yuri huffed.

 

A loud gasp bounced off the tiles as Yuuri found himself shoved under a stream of warm water. Instantly Yuuri tried to move back from the water and he bumped straight into Yuri.

 

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?” Yuri huffed, blocking the way.

 

“It’s too hot,” Yuuri mumbled, curling in on himself.

 

“It’s barely luke warm! You’re just cold as shit. Get your ass back under that water, Katsudon!”

 

Reluctantly, Yuuri stepped back under the water. His surroundings started to become clearer and he blinked through the water and usual blurriness to find that Yuri had joined him in the stall, though he still wore a pair of boxers and was mostly staying clear of the stream. “I can do it myself.”

 

“Can you? Excuse me if I think the idiot who slept at the rink might drown in the shower if I don’t watch him,” Yuri scoffed. “What the fuck happened anyway?”

 

Even though the water was pleasantly warm, Yuuri felt cold again. Wrapping his arms around himself, he lowered his gaze, refusing to meet Yuri’s. He and Viktor had fought. Not the small fights or bickering they’d had before. This had been real and it had hurt. It had hurt and it was terrifying and Yuuri was scared. A sob that surprised even himself left his lips and he fell into Yuri, desperate for any sort of comfort. 

 

Yuri didn’t move to wrap his arms around Yuuri like Viktor would. He had gone tense and rigid in his uncertainty of what to do, but Yuuri didn’t pull away. Eventually, Yuri softened and his arms loosely wrapped around Yuuri awkwardly. 

 

“I… don’t really know what to do when people are crying,” Yuri finally confessed.

 

A choked laugh interrupted Yuuri’s sobs and he pulled back. Viktor never knew what to do either. “S-sorry… I just… needed tha- achoo!”

 

“Ah, shit, you have definitely caught a cold,” Yuri sighed and turned off the water. “Come on, dry off and get in some clothes.”

 

Using the towel Yuri handed him, he slowly dried himself off and dressed in the clothes the teen gave him. They were too long and too big, hanging off of Yuuri’s shoulders and the sleeves going well beyond his hands, but the oversized clothing gave him a sense of comfort. Yuri, too, had dried off where Yuuri had hugged him and dressed back in the clothes he’d been in.

 

“Here.” Yuri held out his team jacket.

 

Yuuri took it gingerly, eyes looking over at Viktor’s team jacket that he’d discarded when he’d undressed.  _ Viktor… Please be okay. Please.  _ “Thank you.” The warmth from the shower was wearing off and Yuuri could feel the chill returning to his bones as he slipped into Yuri’s jacket. 

 

The door to the locker rooms opened and both Yuri and Yuuri’s heads turned to see Yakov entering with a fluffy blanket in his arms. Carefully, he draped it around Yuuri’s shoulders. “Yura, get on the ice and warm-up your jumps. Yuuri, let’s have a talk in my office.”

 

“But-” Yuri started to protest, but Yakov held up a hand.

 

“No buts. China is next week and what’s happened is none of your business,” Yakov insisted. “Thank you for your help, Yura, but I will take it from here.”

 

Yuri let out an annoyed growl but took off for the door regardless, long ponytail swinging angrily with every step. 

 

Wordlessly, Yuuri followed Yakov out of the locker rooms and past the ice to his office. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself as he entered and the door was quietly shut behind him. Yakov pulled out the chair for Yuuri to sit and he gladly complied.

 

“Vitya isn’t answering his phone,” Yakov started as he took a seat himself. “Do you know where he is?”

 

Yuuri slowly shook his head. “He said he was going drinking, but I don’t know where. I… Hopefully he made it home.”

 

Yakov’s eyes narrowed as he folded his hands in front of him on the desk. “Yuuri, what happened?”

 

Tears tickled his eyes but Yuuri refused to cry in front of Yakov. “I couldn’t sleep last night and when I finally went to get out of bed I noticed Viktor was gone. I figured he had gone out again and the only thing I knew to do to get it off my mind was to come skate. When I got here though, Viktor was already on the ice.”

 

“Vitya was on the ice?” Yakov questioned, a fluctuation in his voice of surprise.

 

Yuuri nodded. “He was frustrated. Angry. He struggled to do simple moves. I tried to reassure him, tell him he would get there with more work, but he just started yelling. We… fought.” And that was putting it lightly.

 

“And then he went drinking,” Yakov added. “Has he been doing a lot of that lately?”

 

Yuuri shrugged. “He’s Russian, he says. All Russians drink.”

 

“And all Russians know never to go drinking alone,” Yakov huffed angrily. “Yuuri. Has he hurt you at all?”

 

The blanket almost fell from Yuuri’s shoulders as he loosened his grip in shock at the question. “W-what? N-no! No, of course not! It was just a verbal fight! It wasn’t anything like that!”

 

“Okay,” Yakov accepted, lifting a hand slightly to acknowledge Yuuri’s answer. “Good. I simply would not be doing my due diligence if I did not ask. Even after a verbal argument, people don’t usually sleep next to a block of ice, and this is Russia. We do crazy things. Go home, Yuuri. If Vitya isn’t there, let me know. I know where he frequents and I will drag him out myself. If he is there, then you tell him to call me immediately. Okay?”

 

Yuuri nodded in understanding. He retrieved his own bag where he had left it at the benches and folded up the blanket to leave behind setting it next to Yuri’s things. Slipping on his glasses and his own jacket over Yuri’s, he left the rink behind and headed home. 

 

By the time he opened the door, his nose was running in full force and he could feel the flush in his cheeks. He’d already taken a few days to spend with Viktor and now he’d have to stay off the ice a few more because of this. Great. Halfway to their room, Yuuri stopped and noticed Viktor dead to the world on the couch. He let out a sigh of relief to see him there, his chest rising in a slow but steady rhythm. Rummaging through the drawer for a post-it note he wrote simply ‘Call Yakov’ and put it on Viktor’s phone on the coffee table. Not even bothering to remove his two layers of jackets Yuuri buried himself under the covers and closed his eyes.

 

Yuuri fell asleep fast and hard. When he did finally wake back up, it was from a hard shiver that rippled through him. Throwing back the covers he moved to go to the closet to find an extra blanket or jacket but stopped when he heard voices. They were arguing. Pressing an ear to the door he listened. One voice was clearly Viktor’s. It took a moment for the other voice to ring recognizable as Yakov’s. He guessed Viktor must have called and Yakov felt the need to come in person. 

 

It was too difficult to try and decipher the muffled Russian through the door so Yuuri retreated with an extra blanket back to the bed and cocooned himself back in. He wished Makkachin were here. Makkachin would curl up with Yuuri and bring him comfort. She’d know how to make Yuuri feel better like she always did. But Makkachin wasn’t here, and that was what had started this all, wasn’t it? Sighing, he reached for his phone and pulled up Mari’s text thread. Usually, he’d go to Phichit, but for some reason he needed family.

 

_ Me: Viktor and I got in a huge fight last night… I was so scared. We’d never fought like that before. _

 

It took a few minutes, but Mari responded, probably having to find a break in onsen work. 

 

_ Mari: Shit, about what? Are you okay? Do I need to fly to Russia? _

 

_ Me: I’m fine. It was about his knee. I think we both thought he’d be further along by now, but he isn’t. And anytime I ask him about what the doctors are saying he just ignores me. _

 

_ Mari: So then ask them yourself. I’m sure Viktor put you down to access his records and as second authorization as his husband. _

 

Oh. Right. Yuuri always did the same. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Well, probably because it was an invasion of Viktor’s privacy, but now this was starting to affect not just Viktor but both of them. 

 

_ Mari: I know this has been really hard on Viktor, but it’s no reason to get mad at you. You didn’t bust his knee. You’re just here to help.  _

 

_ Me: I’m trying, I just don’t really know what else to do. _

 

_ Mari: That’s why I think you should talk to his doctors. Maybe they can tell you what’s really going on and what you can do. _

 

_ Me: You’re right. Thank you. I’ll go with him to his next appt. _

 

_ Mari: Good. Offer still stands tho if you need me to come kick his ass for you. We worry about you. Specially Mom and Dad. _

 

Yuuri felt the stab in his heart. He needed to go visit, soon. He couldn’t let another five years pass before coming home.

 

_ Me: I’ll come visit a bit after National’s before 4CC. _

 

_ Mari: K. _

 

With another heavy sigh he set his phone aside and covered his head completely with the comforter. Tuning out the small buzz that he could still hear from Yakov and Viktor he let himself fall asleep again. This time when he woke it wasn’t because he was cold, but because he was burning up. A heavy weight was pressed up against him and it took him a few seconds to process that it couldn’t be Makkachin. Peeking out from the top of the comforter he saw Viktor pressed tightly up against him. 

 

As happy as Yuuri was to see Viktor there with him in bed, he was literally about to die from overheating. A powerful sneeze ripped through him and he was kicking off the covers desperately. God, he was even sweating.

 

Viktor moaned next to him and his bright blue eyes blinked open. “Yuuri?”

 

“Sorry,” Yuuri apologized, sitting up to start shrugging out of the jackets. “I’m just so hot.”

 

Sitting up Viktor put the back of his hand to Yuuri’s forehead. “You’re burning up. I’ll go get a cold compress for your head.”

 

Finally getting out of his and Yuri’s jacket, Yuuri pulled the last remaining layer over his head and breathed out a huge sigh of relief as cool air hit his bare skin. There. That was much better. Viktor returned with the cold press, but he came to a stop where Yuri’s jacket and shirt were discarded on the floor. He didn’t say anything, but Yuuri couldn’t help but notice a strange expression on his face.

 

Sitting on the bed next to Yuuri, Viktor pressed the compress to Yuuri’s forehead. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. None of this is because of you and I had no right to act like that or throw around accusations.”

 

The grief from the last 24 hours slowly started to fade away. “It’s okay… I know you’re frustrated. I am too. I want you to get better, Vitya. You will get better.”

 

Viktor let his head fall against Yuuri’s and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

 

Yuuri leaned in to the touch despite the heat. “I love you too.”

 

Thankfully, Yuuri’s cold was short-lived and he was back on the ice in two days. Although he was forced to take it easy by basically everyone at the rink, it was a productive practice and he felt good about Skate America in a month. This time, when he’d normally go to ballet practice and Viktor to therapy alone, Yuuri stayed latched onto Viktor’s arm.

 

“Aren’t you going to see Lilia?” Viktor questioned, quickly catching on that Yuuri was still following him.

 

“No,” Yuuri answered. “I want to come with you to therapy.”

 

Viktor chuckled. “You don’t have to. I’m alright by myself.”

 

“I know you are, but I want to come,” Yuuri pointed out. “I want to be there for you. Be supportive.”

 

“I already know you are here for me and supportive,” Viktor mentioned, but he didn’t put up any further fight as Yuuri tightened his hold on Viktor’s arm.

 

Viktor checked in with the receptionist and headed to the back where Yuuri could see a room full of equipment through the glass windows in the lobby. Waiting a few minutes for Viktor to be fully occupied with his exercises, Yuuri approached the receptionist. 

 

“Um, excuse me,” Yuuri started. “I was wondering if I might be able to speak with my husband’s therapist about his recovery? I have some concerns and Viktor thought it would be best if I spoke to him directly to fully understand.”

 

“One moment,” she said as she started typing away at the computer. After a few clicks she nodded. “You are on his file, so it’s fine. I will let the therapist know.”

 

_ “Spasibo,” _ Yuuri thanked her and walked back to the view of the windows to wait.

 

“You wanted to speak with me, Mr. Nikiforov? About your husband?”

 

Yuuri pulled his eyes from where Viktor was on the treadmill and turned. The man was in his mid-40s it looked like with light hair and eyes. He wore a polo and khakis like the other therapists and wore a name tag that read Maxim Sokolov. Yuuri smiled, not commenting on the drop of his own name from the address. “Yes, thank you for speaking with me.”

 

“Of course. What can I do for you?” Maxim asked.

 

Yuuri fidgeted with the hem of his coat. “Um, well, it’s about his recovery. Is it… normal? I mean, it’s been nine months. Most of the articles I’ve read on this sort of injury say full recovery is after six.”

 

“It is true that with this injury we usually see full recovery in six months, and sometimes as early as four, but that’s with an athlete who is otherwise healthy and 19-years-old, Mr. Nikiforov, not pushing 30,” he explained. “Your husband has many other underlying factors that are causing a longer recovery. After so many years of jumping up and down on the same leg, there’s a muscular imbalance that has weakened that knee even prior to the injury. Not to mention the osteoarthritis that most skaters tend to develop.”

 

Slowly, Yuuri nodded as he took in what he was saying. It made sense. These were common things skaters developed and went through. “So, then, his longer recovery time isn’t abnormal?”

 

“Mm, well, not really. He’s a little further behind than I would like, truthfully, but we’ve made big progress this last month getting him to start running.”

 

A small breath of relief left his lips. “Oh, well, that’s good. Really good, thank you.”

 

Maxim’s mouth twitched with a knowing smile. “Mr. Nikiforov, what is it you are really asking?”

 

Yuuri swallowed hard as he tried to gather the courage to ask. “Will Viktor ever skate again?”

 

“Oh, yes,” the therapist nodded, “And he’ll regain full range of motion and be able to run, ride a bike, do almost everything he was able to do before. Will he be able to land a quad again? Well, I am not a fan of saying never, but the force put on the knee after a quad - or even a triple - is something that could break him again and perhaps permanently. Like anything that breaks, no matter how well you repair it, it is much easier to break the second time.”

 

Carefully, Yuuri processed the doctor’s words. Viktor would skate again, but it would never be on the same level. That was okay, though, wasn’t it? He didn’t have to skate on the same level. Choreographers didn’t have to jump and neither did coaches. They just needed to know where to put the jumps in a program and understand the mechanics. Viktor would be able to be out on the ice with him again, just like in Hasetsu. “Am I holding him back? By keeping him as my coach? Is he not focused enough on his therapy?”

 

“Viktor is in the clinic at least three times a week and has home exercises he can do anywhere without equipment,” Maxim explained. “I would say that is as much if not more than what most patients do. However, Mr. Nikiforov, at the end of the day it doesn’t matter how many times he comes to see me if he isn’t mentally ready to get better. I would say nine times out of ten, when we aren’t seeing improvement, it’s not because the patient can’t get better. It’s because they won’t.”

 

A breath left him like he’d been punched. Was that it? Did Viktor not want to get better? But why? “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t patients want to get better?”

 

Maxim smiled sympathetically. “Unfortunately, that’s a type of therapy I’m not licensed in.”

 

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Yuuri nodded in understanding. “I understand. Thank you.”

 

“Time, Mr. Nikiforov. It heals all wounds.” He gave Yuuri a final smile before retreating back into the training room.

 

Time might heal all wounds, but it also created new ones. Viktor had a rare smile on his face as he joined Yuuri back in the lobby. He also was far more chatty than he had been recently. It gave Yuuri hope and the courage he needed to address the problems Maxim had brought to his attention.

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri started, squeezing Viktor’s hand as they waited for the bus. “You’re going to skate again. You’re going to be able to be out on the ice with me again and create beautiful programs. You will.”

 

Viktor was silent for a moment in his surprise, but it melted into a warm smile. “Okay… Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Yuuri smiled back.

 

They were fine.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this has actually been done for almost a month and I sort of forgot about it *hides* I'm so sorry! But I hope it was worth the wait. Thank you to all of you who stick with this and read it. It means so much <3

“Give me your key.”

 

Yuuri looked up in surprise from where he was half-way through lacing up his right boot. Yakov was hovering over him with an extended hand palm up. “Key?”

 

“To the rink.” Yakov clarified. “I didn’t find the last few days an appropriate time to address it, but now that we have seemingly moved past whatever it is between you and Vitya I’m bringing it up. This isn’t Japan, Yuuri. You cannot come and go from this rink as you please and you certainly should not have a key. I shouldn’t have to tell people not to make unauthorized copies. If Viktor wasn’t a coach I’d take his, too, after the stunt you two pulled. Key. Now.”

 

With a defeated sigh Yuuri rummaged through his bag to find his keyring. Reluctantly, he found the key in question and worked it off the metal ring to place in Yakov’s palm. Now he had nowhere to go run. Nowhere to help clear his head when the thoughts became too loud. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

 

“It certainly will not,” Yakov agreed pocketing the key. “Don’t worry. Vitya will be receiving a similar lecture. Just because he is a coach doesn’t mean he gets to come skate in the middle of the night, especially when he hasn’t been cleared to do so.” He let a moment of silence fall between them, hand fiddling with the key in his pocket, before addressing the elephant in the rink. “Are things better?”

 

Yuuri let out another sigh. Sometimes. Some days. It was hard to tell. Viktor had seemed to be putting more effort into his rehab exercises, but Yuuri also knew it was only when he was watching. “We’re taking it day by day, but he has been in better spirits since we talked things out.”

 

“Good,” Yakov responded with a pleased nod. “I don’t want to receive a phone call while Yura and I are in China this weekend about you two.”

 

“Yeah, don’t ruin my moment Katsudon,” Yuri barged in, brushing past Yakov and dropping his bag right on top of Yuuri’s. “I don’t need you distracting me from winning gold.”

 

Kicking Yuri’s bag off with a playful smirk Yuuri responded, “Maybe that’s my secret plan all along.”

 

“Tch, if that’s how you have to win gold then you don’t deserve it,” Yuri retorted. 

 

“Why don’t you let your skating do the work instead of your big mouth?” Yakov chimed in. “Unless you are trying to be like Leroy instead of beat him?”

 

A growl left Yuri’s mouth and Yuuri watched his muscles flex beneath his tight fitting shirt at the mention of JJ. He was gripping his skate so hard Yuuri worried he might actually crush it. 

 

“Get on the ice,” was the last of Yakov’s words before he walked away. 

 

“I’m going to crush that asshole,” Yuri hissed, finally releasing his hold on his poor victimized boot. 

 

Yuuri continued lacing up his long forgotten skates. “You know, by letting him get you so worked up he’s winning, right?”

 

“He’s not winning shit,” Yuri assured him, removing the soakers from his blades and throwing them into his bag angrily,  “Because I’m going to be the one on top of the podium and that’s the only thing that matters.”

 

With a shake of his head Yuuri found himself smiling. When Yuri was on his game, it was impossible for JJ to catch him, which made it even more amusing that the Canadian sparked such a fire in Yuri. “I have no doubt you’ll put him in his place.”

 

“Damn right,” Yuri said, shoulders back and chin high. 

 

Yuri chattled eagerly about the recent changes to his short program that he was sure would bring him a new world record. Yuuri listened quietly, enjoying his friend’s enthusiasm. The moment they stepped out of the locker rooms, though, the blonde’s attitude changed. Yuuri followed his green eyes to Viktor. His own body went tense, ready to break up a fight he knew was coming.

 

“Don’t worry, old man, I won’t let Katsudon freeze to death out on the ice today,” he spat angrily as he jerked his skate guards off with far more force than necessary.

 

Viktor crossed his arms and sucked in a harsh breath through his nostrils. “Mind your own business, Yura.”

 

“Considering I’m the one that found him frozen on the bench the next morning, it’s my business,” Yuri threw back, taking a step into Viktor’s space.

 

Yuuri immediately wedged himself between them, hand on Yuri’s chest to hold him back. “Yurio, stop. Please.”

 

“I didn’t mean to leave him, ok?” Viktor said in his defense. “I thought he had left when I didn’t see him.”

 

Yuri scoffed. “Seriously? That’s your excuse? Going blind now, too in your old age?”

 

“Yurio!” Yuuri repeated, this time with more force and warning eyes. Yuri’s green eyes narrowed with one last glance towards Viktor before he was backing off onto the ice and skating away. Tense shoulders relaxed in relief.

 

“Yuuri, please, I swear, I thought you’d left,” Viktor went on, a slight quiver in his voice. “You’d sat down on the ice behind the barrier and I didn’t see you and-,”

 

Yuuri turned and took Viktor’s hand. “Vitya, it’s ok. I know. We’ve been over it and talked it out. It’s ok.” Except it wasn’t ok. Viktor looked...frightened. “Vitya, what’s wrong? You never let Yurio get to you like this.”

 

Viktor’s hands squeezed Yuuri’s almost painfully hard. “It’s just...it’s stupid.” He looked away with an embarrassed flush.

 

“It’s not stupid if it bothers you,” Yuuri countered, squeezing back. “We promised each other, Vitya. We communicate.”

 

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Viktor eventually blurted out, “You’ve come home twice now wearing Yura’s jacket.”

 

...Huh?! Why-wait. Was Viktor...jealous? With a gentle smile Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle before leaning up on his toe-pick to peck him on the cheek. “Ok, that is stupid. The first time it was just for comfort after an anxiety attack. The second time I just needed an extra layer of clothing after getting myself sick. I love you and only you.”

 

Viktor’s eyes fluttered close as their foreheads touched. “I know, I’m sorry...you’re right, it is stupid.”

 

“I can’t believe you were threatened by Yurio of all people for a second,” Yuuri teased, another kiss but this time on the lips. “No more jealous husband. It’s time to be a coach. Skate America will be here before we know it.”

 

With a sigh of relief Viktor nodded, his own body seeming to have relaxed as well, finally. “Ok. We’re drilling your quad salchow today. It’s been horrible lately.”

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but groan, especially because Viktor was right. “Yes, Coach.”

 

After three failed attempts at the salchow, Yuri suddenly started throwing them in randomly out on the ice and Yuuri didn’t know who he was taunting, Viktor or himself. After the fourth fall Yuri went for a quad salchow half loop triple salchow right in front of him and Yuuri felt himself grow angry. Quickly getting back to his feet he took a lap before setting up for the triple three-turn into the quad salchow. He landed it. Viktor clapped excitedly from across the rink and shouted for him to do it again. Yuuri complied and landed as cleanly as he had the last time. 

 

Yuri did a hockey stop right in front of him, showering his lower leg with snow, and smirked. “I should start charging a coaching fee. That’s twice now I’ve fixed your quad sal.”

 

It took a moment for Yuuri to realize what he’d meant, and then it dawned on him it was him Yuri had been taunting after all. “By making me mad?”

 

He shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it? Maybe I’ll take up coaching after I retire. Seems I’m pretty good at it.”

 

“Pretty good at getting on people’s nerves,” Yuuri dished out before he even realized it had left his mouth.

 

Yuri only smirked despite Yuuri’s embarrassment at having voiced the thought out loud. “That, too. Given Yakov and your stupid husband, that seems to be a requirement.”

 

After running through his short twice Viktor called for the end of their practice session. With Viktor’s worries still fresh on his mind, Yuuri suggested they grab lunch together before their therapy and ballet sessions. Although Viktor didn’t voice it, Yuuri could tell he was extra appreciative of the suggestion. 

 

Yuri and Yuuri’s silent competition continued with Lilia earning them both extra praise from the former prima. She even commented that she enjoyed when they practiced together rather than separate, the two obviously pushing each other to their best. It was going to make the Grand Prix Finale even more of an excitement. For once, Yuuri believed - no, he knew - he would make it without doubt. 

 

That weekend they spent less time at the rink and more time together. Yuuri stretched and exercised with Viktor and they enjoyed home cooked meals while they stayed up to watch the Cup of China. It was a showdown between Yuri and JJ, the Canadian half a point above Yuri after the short. Yuuri could see how it affected Yuri, and the Russian came out on fire for the free practically drowning JJ by a solid ten points in the end. Viktor thought JJ had injured himself after a jump even though there was no official statement saying so. 

 

Time flew by and they were on their way to Washington state for Skate America before Yuuri knew it. Viktor slept like a baby the entire flight, but Yuuri couldn’t quiet his mind. It was typical for him, and all he could do was hope he could get sleep at the hotel. He did manage three hours before Viktor woke him for dinner. The second they stepped out of the elevator Yuuri heard his name being shouted across the lobby.

 

“YUURI!”

 

Yuuri turned around and was immediately hit by a freight train by the name of Phichit. “Oof! H-hi!”

 

Phichit pulled back from his tackle and smiled wide. “Yay! I’m so happy to see you again! Hi Viktor!”

 

Viktor smiled and waved back. “Hi!”

 

Without missing a beat Phichit was grabbing Yuuri’s hand. “Come on, I’ve already scoped out where to go to eat! We have so much catching up to do!”

 

Yuuri had to dig in his heels to keep himself from being hauled off. “W-wait, Viktor?” He turned his head towards his husband whose smile grew bigger.

 

“It’s ok, go catch up with Phichit!” Viktor told him. “Celestino and I can go out together, right?!”

 

Celestino happily threw an arm around Viktor with a grin. “Yes, coaches’ night out! It’s been a while since I’ve had a good drinking partner.”

 

Yuuri’s muscles tensed. Anytime Celestino and Viktor went out together it ended up in a drunken mess. He shouldn’t let them go alone. “Phichit…”

 

Phichit seemed to understand the plea in Yuuri’s eyes and he dropped his friend’s hand, but by the time Yuuri turned back around Celestino and Viktor were already headed off excitedly chatting to one another.

 

“Hey, they’ll be fine,” Phichit promised, nudging Yuuri’s shoulder. “Ciao-Ciao can’t drink like he used to.”

 

While that may have been true for his old coach, that wasn’t true for Viktor. There was nothing he could do now, though, so Yuuri let his shoulders fall in defeat as he fell in step with his friend. 

 

“Look, Yuuri, you’ve got to talk to him about it,” Phichit started as they stepped out into the cool Washington air. “You sitting back and hoping it’ll change obviously isn’t working. Didn’t you say even Yakov was worried about it?”

 

WIth a sigh he shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s been way better since they talked. I still see him drink, but it isn’t as much. I think I’m just being paranoid.”

 

Phichit hummed, unconvinced. “Yeah, but didn’t you say he’s not supposed to be drinking at all on his medication? He’s not really improving much with his knee, right? That’s probably a big reason for it.”

 

“I’m tired of fighting with him, Phichit,” Yuuri confessed. “If I bring it up it’ll just be another argument. I’m done with it. Things are fine right now and I don’t want to ruin that..”

 

Phichit quickened his pace so he could step right in front of Yuuri to stop him. “Yuuri. Listen to me. I love Viktor. A lot. And I will always be the biggest Viktuuri shipper on the planet, but what I won’t do is watch you sabotage your own marriage. You both suck at communicating, and if one of you doesn’t speak up this is going to get ugly real fast. The fights you two have been having will seem like nothing.”

 

Yuuri’s heart jumped into his throat and his brain screamed at him to flee. With more force than he had meant to he brushed past Phichit to keep walking. “We’ve talked, Phichit, and things are fine, ok? We are working on being honest with each other.”

 

“Well it’s not working if he’s still drinking with those pills,” Phichit countered.

 

“Phichit, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, ok?!” Yuuri snapped, hands balled into fists in his jacket pockets. 

 

His friend flinched in surprise, but eventually licked his lips and nodded. “Ok…”

 

The mood for dinner was ruined after that, and Yuuri continued to kick himself mentally for it. It was his fault, and now he wasn’t able to enjoy dinner with his best friend who he hadn’t seen in a year. Phichit was good at letting it not get to him, happy to lead the conversation and do most of the talking, but Yuuri also knew him well enough to see that he was hurt by it. 

 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” Yuuri eventually apologized on the walk back to the hotel. “You were only trying to help.”

 

“It’s ok,” Phichit said with an encouraging smile. “I shouldn’t have pried like that. You’ll come to me when you need me, and I should know that. I want a re-do on the dinner though after I win gold and you win silver.”

 

Yuuri cracked a smile and nudged Phichit with his shoulder, “You mean when I win gold and you win silver, right?”

 

“Uh-huh, we’ll see. I’ve finally got a quad in my arsenal, so you better watch out,” Phichit teased.

 

When Yuuri entered their hotel room, Viktor was absent, but he found himself not worrying just yet. He and Phichit’s dinner ended up shorter than it usual would anyway due to the rocky start. After he showered and got ready for bed and Viktor still wasn’t back, he started to worry. Finding his phone he sent a text message. Viktor responded almost immediately.

 

_ Vitya: Finishing up, be back soon! _

 

Yuuri let himself sink into the bed with a sigh of relief. Knowing Viktor would be back soon he allowed his lids to close and his head to sink into the fluffy pillow. The three hours from earlier was gone and he was out like a light.

 

His sleep was so deep that when he did come out of of it it was so forceful he jerked in the bed. When he finally found himself blinking awake in the darkness he realized it was the door that had woken him. He remained still and waited for the mattress to sink down with Viktor’s weight. Yuuri didn’t need to look at his phone to know that hours must have passed since Viktor’s text. When Viktor wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck, the smell of vodka hit him hard.

 

Yuuri couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything about it. 

 

While he did end up falling back asleep, it was anything but restful, the smell of alcohol lingering in his mind the entire time. He was a mess when he looked into the mirror, glasses doing little to distract from the circles under his eyes. Viktor said nothing about the previous night, and Yuuri didn’t ask. 

 

They took the bus to the venue with the other male single skaters for their assigned practice time. Yuuri left Viktor by the rink to head to the locker rooms. He wasn’t going to say anything. He didn’t want to know, but then he did. He had to know.

 

“Phichit,” Yuuri started, voice quiet as they laced up their skates. “What time did Celestino come back last night?”

 

Phichit stopped mid-way through lacing his boot. “About an hour after we did….why?”

 

Yuuri didn’t say anything, not even pausing in his movement as he pulled his pants over his skates. There was just nothing to say. 

 

While Phichit didn’t say anything either, he finished lacing his boots up with so much force Yuuri thought he might break the laces. After leaving the locker rooms and entering the rink through the hallway, Phichit headed straight for Viktor instead of the ice. 

 

“I was hoping you and Yuuri both looked like crap because you were both up all night doing things husbands do, but instead I find out it’s because you were out on another bender when you shouldn’t be drinking at all on your meds!” Phichit started into him right in front of all the other skaters and coaches.

 

Viktor blinked silently in surprise and Yuuri found himself running full speed with one guard off and one guard on to quickly diffuse the situation. “Phichit! Stop!”

 

“No, Yuuri, I lied last night. I should definitely be prying!” Phichit’s black eyes were dark as they bore into Viktor. 

 

Yuuri pulled Phichit away from Viktor and turned him around. “Phichit, stop, people are staring! Just get onto the ice, please! Let me handle this!”

 

“But you aren’t handling it, Yuuri,” Phichit argued. 

 

“Get on the ice,” Yuuri pleaded again, his voice starting to quiver. 

 

Throwing a glare in Viktor’s direction, Phichit looked like he might not let it go, but after a few seconds he caved and walked away. Yuuri let out a shuddered breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and he barely contained the sob that threatened to follow. His hands were shaking. 

 

“So,” Viktor’s voice started low behind him, speaking in Russian which is something they rarely did amongst each other in private. “You’re just advertising our problems to Phichit now?”

 

“It’s not like that,” Yuuri retorted, voice still shaking. “I just needed someone to talk to, Viktor. I’m allowed that.”

 

“You should be talking to me,” Viktor countered, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Especially when it concerns me. I thought we were supposed to be honest with each other. Isn’t that what you said?”

 

Yuuri quickly felt himself starting to lose it. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry, just - please Viktor, I can’t fight with you right now. Please.”

 

Viktor was silent for so long that Yuuri started to hear the voice in his head. It started whispering dark thoughts into his ear. A hand on his hushed them. “Ok. I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have stayed out so late. I didn’t realize it bothered you so much. You hadn’t said.”

 

Nodding, Yuuri gripped Viktor’s hand tightly to ground himself. “You’re right, I hadn’t. Thank you. For apologizing. And I’m sorry I talked to Phichit before talking to you.”

 

Surprisingly, Viktor leaned in and kissed Yuuri on the cheek. “No, it’s ok. I shouldn’t be angry about that when I know you were likely asking his advice on how to approach me. I should be happy that he cares for you so much to yell at me like that.”

 

Yuuri didn’t want to get out onto the ice. He just wanted to latch onto Viktor and not let go. Make everything right again and forget about the entire world around them. That was out of the question, though, especially given how reporters and skaters alike likely saw or heard the brief altercation. He had to step out onto that ice and prove that things were fine by winning gold. 

 

Unsurprisingly, practice was atrocious. Yuuri wasn’t mentally there in even the slightest capacity and he found himself tripping over his own feet without even jumping. When he did land hard after a failed quad flip, he didn’t get up right away, too mentally exhausted to push himself up off the ice. 

 

“Are you ok, Yuuri? That looked nasty.”

 

Through blurred vision Yuuri somehow managed to look up and see Leo hovering over him with an extended hand. Gratefully, he took it, and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. “I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep last night and the exhaustion is really getting to me.”

 

“You should rest,” Leo instructed. “I would hate to see you get hurt because of it. Although I want to beat you, I want it to be you at your best.”

 

Yuuri smiled genuinely. “Thank you, Leo. I’ll do my best, no doubt.”

 

When Yuuri stepped off the ice, Viktor said nothing, only pulled him into a hug which was exactly what Yuuri needed. When the press asked about his abysmal practice and the small feud, Yuuri laughed it off as the two of them spending too much time as a couple and not enough time as coach and student. It had earned him a room full of amused chuckles and, more importantly, time. More time to steal any and every kiss and touch that he could in front of the cameras. A touch at the side of the rink before his name was called, and a kiss to the lips as they waited for his scores. More time to try to convince the world that the hushed rumors were only that.

 

Yuuri stood at the top of the podium at the medal ceremony, but the gold medal felt like a weighted noose around his neck. While his short program had been good, the free skate was a nightmare worthy of Sochi. The only reason he had survived was because he was the only skater there that could do more than one quad. He’d gotten the rotations in, even if he hadn’t landed them. Leo had just slipped by Phichit for silver earning him a roaring applause on his home turf.

 

The press conference had been a blur. It was mostly congratulations on his secured spot in the final, and questions on his feelings about his performance. Disappointment, of course. He’d yet to perform cleanly in both programs at the same event. With false laughter he blamed it on wanting to leave something for the final. 

 

As promised, they had a take two of dinner to celebrate their medals. Finally, Yuuri found himself genuinely smiling when no one ordered alcohol and Viktor ordered them dessert to share. A treat for winning gold. Phichit and Viktor also played nice, some unspoken truce between them that Yuuri was overly grateful for. 

 

The long flight home was their chance. Their chance to talk things out properly and work through their problems. They didn’t. Instead they silently clung to each other in hopes that would simply be enough. While they didn’t talk, Yuuri noticed the bottles disappearing within a week of returning home. It was enough. It was proof of progress. 

 

Two weeks later, Yuri returned triumphantly from Moscow with his second gold. They would meet in the Final once more. This time, Yuuri didn’t feel nervous about it. He felt determined. 

 

“Oi, Katsudon, this is for you.”

 

Yuuri looked over his shoulder as he threw his ballet bag over it. Yuri was holding a key in his hand. Yuuri took it with a raised eyebrow. “What’s it for?”

 

“The rink,” Yuri smirked. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to find a moment I could sneak into Yakov’s office without him noticing. You should try and stick to Mondays and Thursdays, if you can. The night leagues don’t play those nights and no one is around late.”

 

With a genuine smile, Yuuri took the key. “Spasibo, Yurio. It means a lot to me.”

 

Yuri shrugged casually. “I only stole it so you could be better than you were in the US. Shitty free program. I expect way better in France next month.”

 

Yuuri nodded with a determined fist. “You’re on.”


End file.
